


Lost in the Wild

by safarikalamari



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Animal Transformation, Canon Has Been Pulled From All 3 Medias And Stuffed Together Like A Turducken, Confessions, Curse Breaking, Emotional Baggage, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Ladyhawke (1985), M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Spells & Enchantments, Swearing, Temporary Character Death, Timeline What Timeline, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safarikalamari/pseuds/safarikalamari
Summary: After a rogue spell causes Geralt and Jaskier to be caught in a mutual transformation, it seems the only way to break the spell is by tracking down the mage who cast it.Along the way, the two come to gain an even better understanding of each other while hopelessly falling head over heels in love. Neither will admit it, however, assuming the other one doesn't feel the same. That's fine because being travel companions is better than nothing, right?(or: Geralt has as much interest in kissing a lark as Jaskier does with a wolf)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 100
Kudos: 589





	1. The Beginning

The objective was simple.

Storm the castle, kill the mage, rake in the coin. It was clockwork to Geralt, and Jaskier too, but if there was one thing Geralt had learned in his training as a witcher it was that life always had other plans. 

So why he had agreed to let Jaskier accompany him on this job was beyond him. 

“If you would simply tell me more about your work, I wouldn’t have to trail after you to get every little detail,” Jaskier explained as they hiked up the mountain. “After all, one can’t create masterpieces with a simple, ‘I stabbed them’.” 

“Yet that’s never stopped you before,” Geralt commented, taking note of the singed brush on their left. 

Apparently, the mage in the area had set off several destructive fires, windstorms, floods, anything natural that could destroy a village. The survivors had moved, but many wanted their home back and were willing to pay a pretty coin for it. 

“While I can sing with the best of them, Geralt, I should like to be better and for that, I need it all. The stab wounds, the gnashing teeth, your innermost thoughts and feelings.”

“Hm.”

He could feel Jaskier’s eye roll and he readied himself for the next onslaught of words, but Jaskier’s tone quickly changed as the castle came into view. It was decaying with the forest around it, but many of the walls still stood with defiance as vines tucked into every nook and cranny. In its former glory, it was surely to be rivaled, but it seemed its days were long since past.

“A castle on a mountain, it’s as if this was a song waiting to be written,” Jaskier said with his usual glee. “Geralt of Rivia, the fortress against towering stone walls.” 

Geralt had heard worse, but he knew trying to shut up Jaskier now would just result in more defiant chatter. Jaskier could be quiet when necessary, even though his opinion of that differed drastically from Geralt’s. Luckily, Jaskier had gone silent now, taken to observing the castle as they made their way closer. 

The protection spells were easy to sense, it was just the process of breaking them down. Judging by the destruction the mage had already caused, it would be an arduous task at best, but one Geralt was prepared for. He set to scouting out a weakness, an anchor point, something more tangible than just throwing his magic into the air. As luck would have it, the mage had somehow overpassed a single door and one that Geralt took no time in knocking down. 

Of course, it was too easy and Geralt was quick to have his sword drawn and ready. 

“You should go back down the mountain,” Geralt spoke in a hushed tone to Jaskier. 

He glanced at the stairs just beyond the doorway, the darkness almost pitch black. There were no torches, sensibly, but that also made it all the more dangerous for Jaskier. 

“No, you promised me,” Jaskier whispered harshly. 

Geralt repressed a groan, already seeing Jaskier sneak after him. At least if Jaskier was by his side, there was a better chance of protecting him. Not that Jaskier cared that it also meant a better chance of him getting killed. 

Grabbing Jaskier’s hand, Geralt led them up the stairs, his sword ready to strike or protect. Their footsteps were too loud, probably already alerting the mage of their presence, but there was nothing Geralt could do about it now. At the top of the stairs, they were finally greeted by sunlight pouring through small windows, a long hallway with multiple doors. If this was a game they had to play, Geralt was already exhausted. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed, breaking the silence. 

Whipping his head towards Jaskier, Geralt gave him a warning glare, but Jaskier merely glared back. 

“My hand,” he bit. “You’re crushing it to death.”

Geralt dropped his hold on Jaskier as if he had touched a flame, mumbling out a quick apology before turning back to the hall. All senses were on high alert and he took a step away from Jaskier just to get away from his pulsing heartbeat. 

At last, he heard the rustle that was not the two of them and he approached one of the doors with practiced caution. With a breath, Geralt threw the door open, dodging the first set of spells that spilled out of the room. Casting his own in return, Geralt and the mage were caught in a battle of avoiding rather than landing any actual hits. Geralt wanted to throw his sword to end it all, but no doubt the mage would stop it with some other spell. 

The room was in ruins, splinters of wood flying around as a fire had overtaken another corner. A piece of shrapnel swiped past Geralt’s face but his charging threw the mage off as the next spell misfired. It was just enough to give Geralt his chance until a portal opened and the mage jumped through it. 

“Fuck,” Geralt snarled. He had been so close only to lose the target in the end. 

He kicked at a broken chair, sheathing his sword as he gave the room a look over. There was nothing of value and with the mage’s spells wearing off, the castle was nothing more than what it looked like on the outside. A groan caught his attention, letting Geralt forget about a job failed for the time being in favor of making sure Jaskier was okay. 

Jaskier wobbled to his feet, a dazed look in his eyes. With a few rapid blinks and the shake of his body, the initial shock had worn off, a small smile spreading on his face. However, Geralt wasn’t convinced, his medallion humming against his chest. He had been hit with a spell, that much he was certain of.

“Do you feel any different?” Geralt eyed Jaskier, grabbing his arm and examining every uncovered inch of skin that he could. “Aches, burning?”

“Well, no, I–Geralt, stop that,” Jaskier swatted at him, hopping away. “What are you on about?”

Geralt sighed heavily. “A spell hit you. I don’t know which one so we have to figure this out together.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide and he patted down his body in a frantic manner. 

“There could be a mark on you, a pattern of some sort,” Geralt supplied, his hands twitching at his sides. 

While he knew what to look for, he wasn’t sure Jaskier did as the man spun in a helpless circle. 

“They’re easy to spot, right?” Jaskier’s voice pitched up ever so slightly.

“No. Many are barely visible on the skin.”

Jaskier frowned, not ready to expose all of his body in that instant just to see if the mage got him. “Are there any other...things...we could look for? Stripping down here isn’t exactly ideal.”

Geralt sighed, his shoulders tensing up. “Possibly. We should try to find a mark first.”

“Right,” Jaskier nodded, grabbing Geralt’s wrist. “Well, let’s be on our way then.”

Jaskier gave a quick smile then, false, but no malice hidden underneath. The worry from before had appeared to be no longer and the two departed from the castle so Jaskier could be checked over completely. It wasn’t an easy task however, as the moment they reached a secluded area, Jaskier was overcome with embarrassment.

“You can’t see your own back, Jaskier,” Geralt chided as Jaskier kept walking further and further into the woods, his upper layers held tight against his body. “It’s not as if I haven’t seen you in the bath.”

“Well,” Jaskier called back. “This is different. You’re staring.”

That much was true, but it was only for the sake of finding the mark. Geralt reminded Jaskier as such and it was only then that Jaskier let Geralt approach. 

“Trousers,” Geralt motioned. 

With a sigh, Jaskier rid himself of all his clothing, his face reddening by the second. Geralt paid it no mind, inspecting the skin for anything out of the ordinary. He didn’t need to use his hands and he was mindful of the distance he kept from Jaskier.

“You can check your own front. I don’t need to do that,” Geralt said, in hopes of calming down Jaskier’s nervousness. 

“Right, right,” Jaskier let out a small laugh. 

Geralt did his best to rationalize Jaskier’s emotions. Even if he himself had little modesty and thought the same of Jaskier, he didn’t really know what went on in the bard’s mind. If anything, the night they had to hide in a cramped closet together should’ve said where their comfort levels were. Jaskier hadn’t had time to put on his chemise and Geralt could still remember the scent of a high that filled the small space. 

There seemed to be something in the middle of Jaskier’s shoulder blades, but it ended up being a cluster of freckles, each varying slightly in color. Geralt didn’t remember Jaskier having so many on his back and he almost started counting them until that one little mole near his neck caught his attention in its usual fashion. Pulling his gaze away, Geralt took to staring at his hands, an attempt to give Jaskier a little privacy.

When the two finally affirmed there was nothing on Jaskier, Geralt frowned. There were only two ways this misguided spell could go and Geralt only hoped it was the one that just required a good night’s rest. 

“That’s not a good look,” Jaskier commented once he was fully dressed. “Is it that bad?”

“I’m not sure,” Geralt admitted. He mulled over telling the truth to Jaskier and decided now was better than later. “When there’s nothing to be seen, it either means the spell is superficial or there’s something worse underneath. We may just have to wait and see what happens.”

Jaskier swallowed, his eyes going wide. “But if we wait, what if I drop dead? Geralt, what if I lose my ability to sing?”

Geralt wanted to laugh at Jaskier’s greater concern for his singing, but he held it down for Jaskier’s sake. “Then we should hurry to the nearest village. Hopefully they’ll have a healer that can sort this out.”

With a nod, Jaskier led the way before he stopped with a sheepish smile. “Don’t quite know how to get out of here.”

Geralt motioned in the direction Jaskier had been heading as he stepped ahead of him. There was a shift in the air and Geralt could feel Jaskier’s worry with every step. When they reached Roach at last, the sun was setting and Geralt thought back to when they had left her, surprised it had taken them the entire day. At any rate, Geralt didn’t want to stop now, sensing Jaskier’s anxiousness. He mounted Roach before holding out a hand to Jaskier, not realizing he had scared the man when Jaskier jumped. 

“What?” Jaskier stared at the hand in front of him. 

“Faster if we ride together. When Roach gets tired, we’ll take turns.”

Without any more questions, Jaskier gladly took Geralt’s hand, taking his place behind him. His hands landed on Geralt’s hips when Roach took off, but afterwards, they seemed to wander all over the place as Jaskier tried to find the right spot for them. 

“Where you had them before was fine,” Geralt spoke, smiling a little at the nervous laugh he received from this. 

When Jaskier’s hands found their previous place, Geralt merely noted how strong Jaskier’s grip was before thinking over what could happen in the next hours. Jaskier’s heart had finally calmed down, though that was the only thing that went back to normal. Jaskier had little to say, even his small humming in the darkness felt lackluster, and Geralt had to break the silence. 

“If you have anything, we’ll fix it.”

Jaskier sighed, his shoulders deflating. “It’s not that, really it’s not. I’m just…” his voice trailed off, but Geralt did not miss the way his grip tightened. “I’m just mad at my own carelessness. I know the dangers, I know what we get ourselves into. I should’ve been paying attention.”

Geralt mulled this over, unused to Jaskier reprimanding himself. They had been in plenty of spots before, Jaskier stumbling over his feet, risking both their lives without having anything to say about it. 

“The jobs are always unpredictable,” Geralt started, unsure of where he was going. He wasn’t used to comforting. “You can’t blame yourself for the unexpected.” 

Jaskier wasn’t convinced, but he nodded nonetheless. Geralt wanted to say more, to find other words to take Jaskier’s mind off of the incident, but he was at a loss. If there was any indication of what kind of spell hit Jaskier, it appeared to be a self-loathing one at this very moment. 

“Don’t worry, Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled, his forehead coming to rest on Geralt’s back. “I’m thinking back on many of our jobs, not just this one. I suppose it was going to catch up with me at some point.”

The conversation dried up between them then, Geralt with his own turmoil as Jaskier dealt with overthinking. 

“Gods, is that the sun?” 

Geralt glanced at the eastern horizon and saw the first peek of light, amazed that Jaskier had let them walk away from the mage’s castle for so long. A squawk grabbed his attention and he glanced towards Jaskier, half-expecting to see him choking on a yawn. 

Instead, there was no Jaskier. 

Geralt whipped his head around, searching, until he saw a pile of clothes on the ground. Leaping off Roach, Geralt rushed over to the clothing only to come to a sliding halt as a rather large lark wiggled out from them. Its feathers were beige upon white, the face a striped black with two little horn-like feathers sticking out of the top of its head. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt blinked.

The lark let out a shrill noise and jumped, as if it was taken aback by its own sound. Immediately, the lark set into a series of chirps and notes, the black marks seeming to form angry eyebrows and Geralt breathed a small, “Fuck,” to himself. 

“Alright, Jaskier,” Geralt bellowed over the shrilling. The lark stopped, letting out just one more chirp before going silent. “So you’re a lark. This should be an easy spell to break.”

He could see the questioning look on Jaskier’s beaked face and he sighed, uncomfortable with being the one who had to break the silence. 

“If the village has a healer, that will be enough. You’ll be back to your slightly less annoying self in no time.”

Jaskier pecked at his hand earning a small “Ow,” from Geralt that Jaskier seemed particularly proud of. With a grimace, Geralt gathered Jaskier’s clothing from the ground and packed it into one of Roach’s saddlebags before remounting her. As they set off, it was then Geralt noticed Jaskier sitting on his shoulder and he repressed a groan.

“You have wings, Jaskier.”

Jaskier looked down at his bird body as if he had forgotten and took a hesitant flap. Jumping from Geralt’s shoulder, he did a small circle around the man, a bright song filling the air. 

“Yes, alright,” Geralt sighed, wondering how long his patience would last. “Just watch out for hawks.”

Jaskier was quick to stop his singing and he hovered near Geralt and Roach, the pace now up to a quick trot. As much as Geralt wanted Jaskier back as a human, he didn’t mind having a steadier pace due to the transformation. Now there was a thought, wishing for Jaskier to be himself again. Geralt had always preferred animals to people, finding something that didn’t talk back to be the easier companion. Jaskier had been the rare exception and Geralt wracked his mind for when that moment happened exactly. 

It had been, what, years now? Years of travelling, adventure, and getting to know each other. Or rather, Geralt getting to know Jaskier. The opposites that they were, Jaskier was an open book while Geralt didn’t wish to think about the darker parts of his past. Jaskier was always polite, never prodding more once he noticed Geralt’s sullen attitude, yet once the conversation switched, there was that small part of Geralt that wanted to talk about it all. Perhaps a need for sympathy, for someone to just listen and look at it from an outsider view. 

Geralt turned his gaze up to where Jaskier was flying, a small tinge of envy at how free Jaskier looked. How free Jaskier always was. The song that passed by his ear brought a small smile to his face and Geralt decided to stop dwelling in his thoughts for now.

As the day wore on, Geralt found himself able to make some sort of conversation that he was used to having with Roach. With Jaskier’s small chirps as acknowledgement, Geralt had to admit it was actually quite nice. Besides the occasional pecks when Geralt got sarcastic. 

When a village came in sight, Jaskier was quick to shoot ahead and Geralt assumed he was scouting out the healer for them. As Geralt entered, Jaskier had flown back, his head hanging as dejectedly as it could for a bird. 

“Next one then,” Geralt sighed, stopping at a stable to give Roach some food and rest. “We’ll just stock up here. We can camp on the road with you like this.”

Jaskier nodded his agreement as Geralt talked to the stablehand, finding out information about the surrounding villages. Soon, they were back on the road, Geralt heading in a new direction for Jaskier’s sake. 

“Stablehand said there’s a healer to the north,” Geralt explained. “A powerful one too.” 

A bright chirp was Jaskier’s response and he took off flying again. Geralt was sure if he could understand Jaskier’s bird singing, it’d just be the usual chatter from the man. He couldn’t help smile a little, amused by the situation for just a moment. 

As they reached thick forests, Geralt set to looking for a particularly nice patch of ground to settle on. He couldn’t sense any foreboding danger, so it seemed for the time being, the forest was theirs. Just as the sun was beginning to set, Geralt set to making a fire as Jaskier sat on a nearby log half-buried in the ground, somehow grooming himself much like the wild equivalent would. 

Geralt said nothing, but something was nagging at the back of his mind. The nagging seemed to grow and Geralt shifted as his skin began to prick. His armor was uncomfortable, his clothes too. Everything felt like it was on fire. The sun disappeared, the oncoming night greeted with a howl. 

“Oh, Geralt, I had the oddest dream. There was a mage, you were there, and...Geralt?”

Jaskier blinked, glancing down at himself unclothed and scrambled backwards, his knees tucked to his chest. Before him was scattered armor and clothing, beneath it all a white wolf with golden eyes, lumbering to its feet. 

“Oh, no, no, no,” Jaskier shook his head as the wolf shook off the discarded garments. “Now you?”

The wolf let out a low huff before taking the armor into its mouth, making a neat pile near Roach, who was more focused on the foliage. 

“Hold on,” Jaskier scrambled to his feet, stopping just before the white wolf. “This is just a one time thing, right? Me as a lark once, you as a wolf once?”

There was too long of a pause and Jaskier threw himself across Roach. Her ears flicked but she let Jaskier hang his arms on her, his face buried into her shoulder. 

“What kind of curse is this?” Jaskier bemoaned before remembering his unclothed state. “Right.”

First things first, Jaskier wanted to get back into his clothes and he dressed as Geralt settled in front of the fire. 

“You’re awfully calm about this,” Jaskier commented as he pulled on his doublet at last. “I hope you’re not resigned to our fate.”

Geralt just sighed, his head on his paws as he stared into the fire. 

“I suppose you’re right. Nothing we can do about it for now,” Jaskier filled in the gaps. 

The fire crackled before Jaskier spoke again. “But why am I a lark? At least you’re a wolf that can still fight and grab things with its mouth. I just...fly.” Jaskier waved his hand around, a scowl on his face. 

For a moment, he wondered if Geralt had stopped listening. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked. 

The wolf’s ears flicked towards him, though his eyes remained on the fire. This brought Jaskier’s spirits up a little and he got up to get his lute off of Roach. Geralt lifted his head, watching him with wary eyes. 

“Now you don’t get to say anything about my practicing,” Jaskier teased as he sat back by the fire. He knew Geralt never meant anything by those comments, but sometimes it was fun to agitate him just a little.

Jaskier plucked at the strings, nonsense lyrics coming to his mind. He thought how he would write this one down, how to sing about it with much more glamour than their messy transformations. 

“Townsfolk will think I see myself a lark without realizing I’ve actually turned into one,” Jasker laughed, finding a particularly nice chord amongst his strumming. “And now there’s quite literally a white wolf with me.”

Geralt grunted, settling onto his side. In this state, Geralt was much more approachable and Jaskier couldn’t help himself, taking small steps towards Geralt. 

He knew Geralt could hear him, but the wolf hadn’t snapped at him yet and Jaskier ran a hand down his side. Geralt glanced at him, but there was nothing else so Jaskier took it a step further. He buried his face into the soft fur, inhaling happily with the calmness it washed over him. That was, until Geralt got to his feet, leaving Jaskier with no balance and falling face forward into the ground.

“Geralt,” Jaskier sputtered, wiping the dirt off his face. “Honestly. As if you could resist temptation either.”

Using his back feet, Geralt kicked a little more dirt towards Jaskier before taking the other side of the fire and laying back down. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll ask next time.”

There was a thump and Jaskier’s face lit up, noticing the slight twitch from Geralt. 

“Are you wagging your tail?”

Grinning, Jaskier set back to his lute practicing, watching Geralt’s occasional movements. There wasn’t much difference to how they usually were, Geralt watching the fire while Jaskier worked on his music. If it wasn’t for the sight of a wolf across from him, Jaskier would think nothing of the situation. 

“Gods above, I’m exhausted, but if I’m going to be a lark in the morning, I don’t want to sleep,” Jaskier sighed. “What bollocks is this, having to be a human only at night. If anything it should be you, Geralt.”

He could already hear Geralt’s hum of acknowledgement and watched as Geralt got up, padding over to Roach. Even in this wolf state, Roach seemed to know Geralt and let him brace his paws on her as he pulled the food satchel from out of the saddle bags. Instead of going back to his side of the fire, Geralt sat next to Jaskier, nudging the food towards him. 

“Right,” Jaskier nodded, gently placing his lute in its case. “Meat for you?”

Jaskier teased just a little but he pulled out the dried meat for Geralt and himself, indulging on the small loaf of bread they still had left. Geralt was quick to finish his meal, thanks to his newfound sharper teeth before he went back over to Roach, grabbing a bedroll. 

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Jaskier yawned as he accepted the offering. 

Laying it out on the ground, Jaskier laid on his side, watching the small flicker of the fire as his eyelids grew heavy. When white engulfed his view, Jaskier pursed his lips, wanting to throw his arm around the wolf in front of him. He didn’t realize he had let his concerns show that much, but he was grateful that Geralt was still there to comfort him even in this form. 

With Geralt’s nod, Jaskier wrapped an arm around Geralt, snuggling into the thick fur. Geralt tensed up, just his usual amount, before he relaxed into the hold. Jaskier had never gone as far as this before, usually thankful enough that Geralt would even choose to sleep on the same side of the fire as him. As much as Geralt didn’t care about the world, he had a way of understanding unspoken things. 

Each of Geralt’s breaths sent a wave of calm over Jaskier, his struggle to stay awake slowly slipping away as he fell into a dreamless sleep at last.


	2. Chapter 2

When morning came, Geralt stretched his aching muscles before dressing himself. At first, he merely ignored the birds that sang in the trees until he realized it was just one bird. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt began, as if scolding a child. “We don’t need everyone to know of our presence. Your bird calls carry more than your human voice.”

There was a bright chirp and Jaskier flying down from the trees, landing on Roach’s back. Her ears turned as she gave Geralt a look that often came with Jaskier’s antics. He could see the impending bucking so he dug out a few sugar cubes to reassure her. With Roach back to her content self, Geralt cleaned up their campsite, giving it one last glance before climbing onto Roach. He supposed there wasn’t as much of a need to rush now that it was becoming more apparent what he and Jaskier had gotten into, but he still set off in a light trot if only to appease Jaskier. 

Speaking of, Geralt hadn’t noticed any bird songs for at least a few minutes now. He almost thought he left Jaskier behind but the sheepish cheep behind his back told him otherwise. 

“You can stay there for as long as Roach lets you,” Geralt said with a hint of amusement. 

Roach and Jaskier shared a mutual appreciation of each other, Geralt had come to note that. Her tolerance of him was astounding and Geralt wondered when that part of her had rubbed off onto him. Except it wasn’t so much tolerance with Jaskier now as it was acceptance. Acceptance that Jaskier would always be there, always be talkative, just a simple always. 

Geralt didn’t understand why he was thinking so much all of a sudden. If this was part of the spell, Geralt would be glad to be well rid of it. With as much time as he spent in his thoughts already, Geralt didn’t need it filled with more nuances, especially when it involved Jaskier. They were fine as they were. 

Lost in his battling thoughts, Geralt didn’t know how exactly much time had passed, but at last thatched roofs came into view. Jaskier’s chirp was too close to his ear and he stared at the bird now on his shoulder. 

“Do you mind?”

In response, Jaskier took some of Geralt’s hair into his beak and tugged sharply. It didn’t hurt with his bird excuse for strength, but Geralt knew what Jaskier’s intentions were. He did his best to ignore the repeating action, only getting Jaskier to stop with a flick to his beak. 

They had reached the outskirts of the village now and it was time to find a healer. Some nearby villagers were more than happy to direct Geralt, their eyes showing no fear towards him. Geralt questioned what grace he had been blessed with, why the last two villages greeted him with kindness. It seemed Jaskier’s songs had taken to the countryside after all.

Dismounting Roach, Geralt led her by the reins, settling her at a nearby wooden post. Once she was happily feeding off the grass, Geralt entered the healer’s shop, a bright hello immediately hitting his ears. 

“We have a misfired spell on our hands,” Geralt stated plainly as the healer stood behind a wooden counter.

“So you have,” the healer replied, eyes widening a little. It seemed they had figured out the situation for themselves as they looked quizzically at Jaskier. “The lark form is an interesting choice.”

“He’s a bard.” Geralt wasn’t sure what made him say that, but it was enough of an explanation for the healer as they nodded their head. 

With a sigh, the healer glanced around the room before looking at Geralt and Jaskier. “This is a bit beyond me, I’m afraid. There’s more to this than just the transformation.”

“So, there’s nothing you can do?” Geralt clenched his jaw. 

The healer shook their head, fingers drumming on the counter in front of them. “Perhaps the sorceress, the one to the–”

“No,” Geralt cut them off. 

He knew Yennefer could be able to help in some way, but he didn’t want to face her chastising any more than Jaskier did. Yes, he had a fondness to her as she did him, the two on a wavering line of something else. It was a tumultuous situation at best that Geralt didn’t want to aggravate. 

Jaskier let a small peep then that Geralt chose to interpret as his resignation. 

“We’ll find another way, thank you,” Geralt spoke, laying down some coin for the healer’s trouble. 

Once back on Roach, Jaskier chirped, hopping about on Geralt’s shoulder. 

“No, we’re not going to her,” Geralt answered. “She’s weeks away at any rate.”

He could feel small, beady eyes glaring at him, wanting more of an explanation as they set off towards the next town. Geralt let out a heavy breath through his nose, his grip tight on Roach’s reins. 

“I know she and I have been...close,” Geralt started, already expecting to be interrupted. “We’re on well enough terms. It’s complicated.”

Jaskier bounced on his shoulder, as if this would make Geralt talk more. Geralt gave him a short glare, but Jaskier stood as if he could accomplish being overbearing in this form. 

“I care about her, but she’s not my…” Geralt trailed off, unsure of how to describe what he felt. 

He didn’t have friends, didn’t have lovers. Even Jaskier was, well, Geralt wasn’t sure what but he hoped he’d figure it out eventually. 

“Let’s just say I want things to stay as they are. If I see her, I don’t know what might happen.”

Jaskier was silent for a moment before he let out a rather somber note, his gaze no longer on Geralt. There was a sting of confusion in Geralt’s soul, yet it wasn’t towards Yennefer.

“She’s not like you,” Geralt blurted in haste. 

A wave of annoyance, disgust, and heat washed over Geralt for letting those words even come forth. Especially with Jaskier hopping around as if Geralt had promised the world. 

“We’re not friends.” It came out more forceful than intended, but Jaskier was unperturbed, a teasing chirp as he tilted his head at Geralt.

Geralt’s mind nagged at him. He was so used to saying that now, a wall to protect himself. Whether he meant it or not was another matter entirely. The less pain in his life, the better and he wanted to say Jaskier thought the same for himself.

Jaskier took the opportunity to fly off then, the sun reaching its highest point in the sky. It was a refreshing break from the grisly rain they had a few days prior and Geralt could only imagine how nice it was for Jaskier to not have sore feet. Then again, he could already see the foreboding complaints about aching arms and how flying wasn’t like walking. 

A few notes whistled through the air and it took Geralt just a moment before he recognized the song. It was one of Jaskier’s favorites, the melody shining through with the new pitches Jaskier had acquired. Geralt listened intently, missing the lower tone of Jaskier’s voice. Larks could sing pretty, but Jaskier brought about strength, a newfound rawness. Geralt supposed that’s why Jaskier could earn them so much coin with his music. He made other people feel things and even caused something to stir inside Geralt a time or two. 

The tangle of thoughts made Geralt realize they were in need of some coin soon and he called out to Jaskier high above him. 

“We’ll need work, the coin’s running low.”

Jaskier flapped downwards, landing on the saddle horn before giving Geralt a nod. 

“It’s easy enough for me to find jobs, but what about you?” Geralt continued on. “You don’t have to work. We can avoid inns if you want to keep...this...secret.”

Jaskier contemplated, little peeps coming out of him as if he was talking to himself. Geralt didn’t care either way, as long as a decision was made. 

“Tell me when you’re human again,” Geralt finally spoke. He didn’t want to have to interpret Jaskier’s bird calls anymore than he already was. 

Satisfied by this, Jaskier took off again, warbling in the sky. Geralt allowed himself to watch Jaskier a little longer before going back to his meticulous planning. There was a long path ahead of them and it needed to come with as little trouble as possible.

* * *

“Goodness, I never thought I’d miss standing on my own two feet,” Jaskier stretched as he settled near the fire. “Flying is a whole new sensation, really. I shall have to write a song about it, the way the wind just carried me through the sky, when I could just glide with the breeze…”

Geralt snorted, causing a few leaves to fly up from the ground. 

“Right, business. I thought it over and I think I would like to work at a few inns if we can manage. Not sure how establishments feel about pets however.” The edges of Jaskier’s mouth turned up. 

He earnestly wanted to sing. Bird calls were fun, but he missed the feeling of his lute in his hands, performing for a crowd. Geralt was keeping good company however. As he usually did.

“If you trust me,” Jaskier cleared his throat, “I can go into the inns alone and you can lurk about. Your senses are strong in this form too, I imagine, so if I get into a spot of trouble, we should be fine.”

The wolf rolled his eyes at this and Jaskier laughed. It felt different when Geralt was this way. Jaskier was used to brooding Geralt, a cold stare. As a wolf, that stare, while animalistic, was warm. Not that Geralt couldn’t be kind to Jaskier, it just seemed as if certain gazes were reserved for Yennefer alone. 

Thinking about the sorceress led Jaskier back to what the healer had said, the short revelation Jaskier had witnessed on the road. Geralt said he was different from Yennefer with such conviction too. Jaskier was tempted to egg Geralt on, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

“If not Yennefer, then what?” Jaskier asked, head in his hands. “Hunting down the mage? Making sure he’s dead and gone?”

Geralt’s ears pricked at this and Jaskier groaned. 

“Really? That’s our grand plan? What if he does something worse to us, Geralt? What if he makes this permanent?”

Geralt shrugged as well as a wolf could. He seemed to have little concern about that part and that bothered Jaskier the most. 

“Of course you would feel that way. You with your great, hulking wolf form. Meanwhile, I’m just a songbird that can’t do much else. At least as a human, I have thumbs.” 

The firewood crackled, the bottom of the logs crumbling as they turned into bright embers. A harsh memory invaded Jaskier’s thoughts then and he tried to scratch it away, not wanting to dwell in that of all things. It was pitiful that after all these years it still ate away at him. 

“ ‘Always good for a laugh, Jaskier’,” he spoke, quoting those he had once called his friends. “That’s all they saw me as. A useless dope stumbling around Oxenfurt. It never mattered that I excelled in my classes or spent much of my free time devoted to them.” Jaskier spat the last word out as if it were poison on his tongue. 

Curling his legs close to himself, Jaskier wrapped his arms around them, half-burying his face in his knees. “After a while, you start to believe it.”

With a heavy sigh, Jaskier shook his head, hand carding through his hair. “Sorry. Not your burden to bear.”

He hadn’t noticed Geralt coming over to him and he jumped when a snout bumped one of his elbows. Geralt gazed at him, ears perked forward as if to say he was listening. 

“Geralt, has being a wolf made you soft?” Jaskier teased as he pet Geralt alongside his jaw. 

Geralt’s front paws shot up then, pushing Jaskier without warning onto his back. Jaskier only laughed at the action, turning his head as Geralt stood next to him, head bowed near Jaskier’s. A wet nose hit dangerously close to his mouth and Jaskier sputtered, wiping the offending wetness away. 

“All right, now you’re acting too much like an animal,” he swatted away at Geralt’s paws and nose. “What are you trying to do, Geralt, be affectionate?”

Geralt stopped then as Jaskier grinned up at him. He almost thought Geralt was going to run off until Geralt decided to flop his entire body on top of Jaskier’s face. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier shouted, though muffled by fur. “You’ll suffocate me, you...you dog!” His arms flailed in an attempt to move Geralt off. 

Geralt’s body shook as if he was actually laughing before he finally released his hold on Jaskier. Spitting out fur, Jaskier sat up, brushing off his doublet and face. 

“Now look what you’ve done,” he pouted. “This was one of my better doublets too, you bastard.”

In his usual fashion, Geralt was back on the other side of the fire, not bothered in the slightest by Jaskier’s concerns. Jaskier opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment it hit him. He felt better, much better, all thanks to Geralt and his antics. With a small smile, Jaskier got up, walking over to him. 

“Thank you, Geralt,” he sighed, giving the wolf a quick hug. 

This was met by a huff and Jaskier’s smile only grew as he reluctantly let go to grab some food and his bedroll. Geralt was a good man, no matter what he said. Jaskier had figured that out in their years together, though some moments left to be desired. 

It was times like these that reminded Jaskier how much Geralt cared and that’s all that mattered. He didn’t need the overly grand gestures. Not from Geralt at any rate. This was enough and Jaskier settled next to Geralt, the two sharing their meal in comfortable silence.


	3. Chapter 3

For a few more days, their pattern continued on, each getting used to the transformation, adapting to the other’s needs. Not that they expected anything else really. If it wasn’t for their animal forms, this didn’t vary much from their first time traveling together. 

Roach’s apprehension, Geralt’s waning patience, and Jaskier’s chaotic mind had come back full circle besides the different aged expectations that were now placed upon all of them. Of the three, Roach was having the better time, with her concerns lying elsewhere: the next good patch of grass. 

With the decision to track down the mage, both Jaskier and Geralt were at a loss of where to start. He had portaled himself away and there had been no trace to speak of. It was Jaskier who suggested asking people as they travelled along, because after all, a mage as strong as the one they faced couldn’t be completely invisible to the world. 

“You’re the one doing the asking,” Geralt spoke in regard to the statement made hours ago. 

There was plenty of daylight to spare, but Geralt estimated that by the time they reached anyone else, it would be during the night. All the better for him since Jaskier had all the charm. Jaskier was as affronted as a bird could be, chittering at Geralt while shaking his head. 

“If there’s no other way, then I’ll talk,” Geralt finally cut into Jaskier’s chirps. “You’re more approachable that’s all.”

Geralt could hear Jaskier’s quip of, “Of course I am.” That had been happening a bit too much lately, Geralt having conversations with Jaskier in his mind. The problem with it all was sometimes things got out of hand and Geralt had ended up daydreaming fantastical situations that would never happen. All the same, he could see Jaskier’s expressions, the words thrown at him in anger. He would feel guilt over this, only brought out of the foul mood when Jaskier flew by, reminding him that it was all made up.

“What’s gotten into me, Roach?” Geralt asked in a low voice. 

She didn’t have the answer that Geralt wished was there. Here he was, a witcher who had taken down multiple fearsome beasts, yet the one creature that gave him the most trouble was his own soul. 

He was in need of a distraction and one that didn’t involve Jaskier. Driving himself mad was not on his list for today. Turning his attention back to their surroundings, Geralt stopped filtering as much as he usually did. Today, he would welcome the incessant buzzing of insects if that meant he wasn’t left to deal with himself. 

That was, until Geralt felt the abrupt shift. The air had turned thick, the hairs on the back of Geralt’s neck standing up. There were eyes on them and ones that only spelled danger. Focusing in on the smallest change, the slightest breath, Geralt kept his eyes on the road, but his senses everywhere else. Geralt needed the upper hand, but it didn’t help that Jaskier had taken to singing again.

“Jaskier, quiet,” Geralt bit out as Jaskier flew past him. 

After a few circles, Jaskier came down and landed on Geralt’s shoulder, a small peep for his question. A mist had started to roll in, despite it being midday and Geralt let out a small groan. The last thing he needed was a monster like this, but there was no choice in the matter and he slipped off Roach motioning for Jaskier to perch on her saddle. A small protection spell was all he could offer and he hoped that would be enough.

He watched Roach’s flickering ears, noting the increasing thickness of the fog that surrounded them. A tightness in his chest grew, but he ignored it for the sake of their safety. The only tell-tale sound nearly passed his ears, the rustle of the grass before Geralt braced himself for the oncoming attack.

A foglet leapt from an obtrusive angle, sending Geralt off-balance as it swiped with its claws. He was quick to regain his footing, his sword stabbing with precision, but another foglet ran from out of the fog. Geralt soon realized he was surrounded by several illusions, each running at him, mouths open and snarling. The fight carried on and Geralt barely saw an end in sight. It was only when a light approached him through the fog that Geralt ground his teeth, bracing himself as he sliced another illusion in half. Casting Aard with sensitive precision, Geralt hit his target true, a scream echoing around him. 

However, this was just enough to distract Geralt and another illusion grabbed onto his arm, while the other tried to break his grip on his sword. Geralt twisted and wrestled with the illusions, managing to throw one off, but the other went flying with his sword and Geralt was left to chase after it. He could hear the real foglet racing towards him and he scrambled for his sword. It was only a hand’s reach away, but it felt like time was passing him by as he finally grabbed onto the hilt. A bird’s screech hit his ears and Geralt’s heart dropped as he saw Jaskier flying around the foglet, dodging its swipes at him. Quickly passing over his anger, Geralt took advantage of the distraction, giving him just enough time to stab the foglet through.

Once the foglet lay still, Jaskier landed on top of it, pecking at the body. 

“Jaskier, you could’ve gotten yourself killed. Especially when you’re that small,” Geralt reprimanded. He wiped his sword off in the grass before putting it back in its sheath. “Why must you always get in the way?”

Usually Geralt was met with a scathing comment, but due to Jaskier’s form there was just lingering silence. The fog around them faded away to show a bright sun-filled world as if there had not been any signs of a fight at all. 

Without another word, Geralt got onto Roach, trying to ignore his guilt. He was worried, always worried, yet he could never say it. Never say it the right way, never express it how he should. Jaskier had put up with too much. That Geralt was sure of. Yet, even now, the words dried up in his mouth as Jaskier flew above. 

When they reached a place to camp, Geralt set to his usual duties, doing his best to stay a fair distance from Jaskier. He didn’t want to confront those feelings that lingered under the surface, but he needed to explain himself. To apologize. 

In that moment, Jaskier took the opportunity to peck at the back of Geralt’s head to which Geralt reacted by trying to grab him out of the air. 

“Jaskier, would you just–” 

What soon entangled was Jaskier’s angry screeching and Geralt trying to talk him down. Yet every time he opened his mouth, Jaskier didn’t seem to want to hear it, pecking him over and over again. 

The two didn’t even notice the sun setting until Geralt dropped to his knees and Jaskier’s wings folded, causing him to crash to the ground. When the transformation finished, Jaskier leapt to his feet, practically stomping over to Roach to retrieve his clothes.

“I’m sorry, all right?” Jaskier pulled and shoved on the garments, ignoring Geralt’s angered breathing. “The foglet was practically on top of you. I had to intervene.”

Jaskier sat down at the fire, staring into the flames as if hoping for an explosion to happen. He had been yelled at by Geralt before, but this time stung. He almost wanted to blame it on his lark form, as if that made it so he could only feel so much at once. 

“I don’t know why I’m the one apologizing either. You should be grateful for what I did,” Jaskier pointed. “Yet here I am, taking blame once again.”

Geralt had taken his spot by the fire, his eyes anywhere but on Jaskier. The need to shout was growing, but Jaskier knew he had to be more mature than that. Not knowing what was going in Geralt’s head, especially now, was agonizing. There were times where Jaskier wondered if Geralt felt anything at all, what with all the grueling training in his younger years. 

If it wasn’t for the occasional smile, a small bit of laughter, Jaskier would be convinced he was traveling with a stone goliath and nothing more. How awful it must be, he often thought, that Geralt had to bury himself like this. Deny himself the beauty of what life could be. Jaskier’s shoulders dropped, his initial anger dissipating. 

“I suppose today was the most useful I’ve ever felt,” Jaskier admitted, ducking his head as those golden eyes finally landed on him. “I was able to do something as you fought.”

Geralt got to his feet and padded over to Jaskier, then laying close to him. His staring did not stop and Jaskier shifted. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jaskier sighed. “I am my own man, Geralt. I can wield a sword as well as any person can. You just haven’t given me a chance.”

With a small huff, Geralt laid his head down on Jaskier’s leg, his brow raised. 

“And, well,” Jaskier stumbled, wringing his hands together. “I know it’s your job, you’re the one who’s supposed to fight the monsters, but I’d like to help more. Will you let me?”

Geralt lifted his head, snout reaching out for Jaskier’s hand and he allowed Jaskier to pet him, eyes closing a little as Jaskier scratched behind his ears. 

Jaskier chuckled, resting his head on his other hand. “This doesn’t mean I’ll stop singing about your conquests however. Do you really think I would throw that to the side?”

The response was a grunt, but Jaskier knew that one well and calmness washed over him. As he opened his mouth again, Geralt gave him a wary look that Jaskier could only laugh at. He broke into a small song, classic and well-memorized, while he pet Geralt, watching the flickering ears of the wolf. Jaskier imagined himself carding his hand through Geralt’s locks, tugging at the usual tangles, the temptation to make braids in them. Geralt never let him, of course, but Jaskier would keep trying. The man would have to relent eventually. 

Thinking back, Jaskier was amazed how far they had come. Geralt hadn’t wanted anything to do with him at first, but now, here they were, caught in a spell together as if it meant something. Jaskier’s singing wobbled as he laughed, knowing how they must look to outsiders. Jaskier didn’t care, naturally. He had earned his place in Geralt’s life, though it had been a rocky path getting there. 

Now, Jaskier wanted to be content. His voice cracked then and he cleared his throat, but the song he had been singing was too bright for where his mind had gone. Choosing a somber tale of broken hearts, Jaskier began again, the notes hitting him to his core. 

He loved Geralt desperately. It had been months of denial before he realized what it was he was feeling and after that, months of trying to kill it. He knew Geralt didn’t feel the same, probably wouldn’t ever with Yennefer always popping up. Jaskier wasn’t jealous, he saw how well they fit together, but he was sad. It was the best way he could describe it. 

Hiding it was easy, after all, his loving self was who he always had been. Geralt saw nothing amongst their touches, Jaskier’s dedication, and even now, sitting in front of the fire together, they were just two people who had taken the same path. If there was one bittersweetness to come from this spell, it gave Jaskier time to think. Almost too much.

Ending his song, Jaskier gently lifted Geralt from his lap to grab his bedroll. Geralt shook himself and it was then Jaskier assumed Geralt must have closed his eyes. He kept his teasing to a smile, pleased that Geralt liked his singing after all. 

“Good night, Geralt,” Jaskier breathed once all was laid out and sleep crept across his body. 

With the affirming touch, the press of Geralt’s form against his own, Jaskier let himself enjoy this for now. Sometimes, pretending didn’t hurt so much, lulling Jaskier to sleep with thoughts of what could be. 

The morning came with no disturbances, despite the many lingering feelings. 

Jaskier had taken to exploring holes high up in the trees as Geralt cleared up their camp. If Jaskier wanted to say anything else it would have to wait for the night as Geralt mulled over with his own impending speech.

With all he had done, Geralt wondered why Jaskier let him try again and again. Geralt had thought his chances spent years ago, but there was Jaskier with a helping hand. Of course, Geralt had to work for that forgiveness, to show Jaskier he had understood his mistakes, and that was rightly just. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt called, twisting Roach’s reins in his hands. 

The lark came out on a branch, just above Geralt’s head and looked down at him. Taking a deep breath, Geralt said what felt right to him. 

“We’ll have to get you a proper sword when we reach town. Maybe we’ll find out something about the mage too.” 

Jaskier shot down to him, tangling himself in Geralt’s hair with the excited flapping of wings. At a loss of what to do, Geralt settled on patting Jaskier on the head, which turned out to be a bit too heavy for his lark form. Jaskier wobbled before his center of gravity realigned and he settled on Geralt’s shoulder pointedly. 

Geralt smiled a little, grateful he didn’t have to say more right away. He needed more time anyway, if just to practice. 

For now, it was off to the nearest town to see if anyone had news of rogue mages and fine swordsmiths. With any luck, they would find both, but it was never that simple. Geralt had learned that the hard way one too many times.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as they approached the town, Geralt could sense her presence. 

Of all places she had to go visit of course it’d be the one Geralt and Jaskier were headed to next. Now, there was no avoiding her, not if she had anything to do with it. Deciding not to tell Jaskier, Geralt led them to an inn, paying the stableboy generously as he checked over their supplies. 

They would have to go into several shops and no doubt that would be their downfall. Fighting his reluctance, Geralt set to head off to the first shop, Jaskier in tow on his shoulder, just as another figure down the road spotted them.

“Geralt, lovely to see you.” Yennefer did not smile, but her eyes shone with her usual interest. “Where’s your little songbird?”

Geralt almost laughed at the irony as Jaskier chittered at her in annoyance. Geralt knew she understood immediately with her miserable attempt of hiding her amusement and now he was caught between peals of laughter amongst teeth grinding screeches.

“How quaint,” she finally managed as Geralt took the initiative to flick Jaskier in the stomach to shut him up.

“Is it?” Geralt quipped back, turning his head away from Jaskier’s furious hopping. 

“I would think it a relief to finally be able to speak without constant interruption,” Yennefer said, just as Jaskier let out a sharp shrill in her direction. “At least without the usual poetic nonsense, yes?”

Trying to keep the peace, Geralt replied with a simple grunt that didn’t appease to Yennefer or Jaskier. Of course, Jaskier was having none of that, especially when Yennefer tried to reach out and pet him. The moment Geralt felt Jaskier jump from his shoulder, Geralt clapped both his hands around Jaskier’s body, his beak just jutting out between the hands. Jaskier fought against the hold, but it was useless, competing with Geralt’s strength. 

“He seems even more dramatic as a bird,” Yennefer commented. “Come, we should talk in a more private space.”

Before Geralt followed, he opened his hands slightly now that Jaskier had calmed down. “Try that again and you’ll end up back in my grip,” Geralt warned. 

Beady eyes spit curses and awful things at him, but it wasn’t until Jaskier gave a small chirrup that Geralt allowed him to fly free and onto his usual spot on his shoulder. Yennefer took them into a small cottage down the road, surrounded by dark flowers and trailing vines. The inside was neatly decorated with a rectangular table in the center, a black vase with withering flowers sitting on it. 

Geralt sat across from Yennefer and she clasped her hands together, an unreadable look on her face.

“This isn’t something I can break.”

Jaskier immediately jumped in with warbles and chirps to which Geralt and Yennefer did their best to ignore. Geralt took to holding Jaskier’s beak together to let Yennefer explain herself. 

“Sometimes spells aren’t just the snap of fingers, Jaskier,” Yennefer looked at the lark. “This one requires the two of you and, in particular injustice, I cannot say how.”

“What do you mean?” Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed.

Yennefer stared at him before focusing on a particularly interesting splinter on the table. “There’s nothing else I can explain, Geralt. You and Jaskier must break this spell yourselves somehow. I’ve seen one person stab the other, drowning, setting each other on fire...oh, one time a spell break required animal sacrifices.”

None of those sounded particularly pleasing to Geralt and Jaskier, with his beak finally free, let out a low whistle. 

“Sometimes,” Yennefer grinned. “All it took was true love’s kiss.”

Geralt held himself back from rolling his eyes, wincing at Jaskier’s piercing screech. 

“Well, it was worth a try,” Yennefer shrugged, leaning back in her seat.

“I suppose continuing to hunt the mage down won’t do us much good then,” Geralt stated, trying to get away from what Yennefer had just mentioned.

Yennefer’s tight-lipped smile was cynical at best. “It only led you to me so far.”

Geralt was quick to hold onto Jaskier’s beak again, knowing all too well that Jaskier had his own thoughts to go along with those words. With a huff, Jaskier went to an open window and perched on the ledge, looking back at Yennefer and Geralt. 

“There’s a nice tree to your right,” Yennefer motioned. “It’ll give you plenty of cover from bigger things.”

With a nod, Jaskier took off, leaving Yennefer and Geralt alone. Whether this was intentional or not started to eat at Geralt but Yennefer left no time for thinking. 

“I don’t believe we need to talk about the obvious, do we?” Yennefer began, as she closed the window until there was just a sliver of the outside left.

“No,” Geralt bit out. 

So, maybe he had grown a sort of fondness for Jaskier over the years. That didn’t mean they were suddenly lovers. The shared rooms at inns were necessary to save on coin, travelling together was all due to Jaskier’s stubbornness when they first met. Even now, it was with reluctance that Geralt allowed Jaskier to help him with his injuries or to clean off monster remains. 

“You’re an idiot,” Yennefer cut into his thoughts. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow at her, jaw clenched. 

“You are allowed to love him. I know we’ve all been taught one time or another that loving is what leads us to our deaths, but really is that so bad?” 

A rumble of a laugh left Geralt and he shook his head. “If it was you, I would say not, but he’s…”

Geralt didn’t know what he wanted to say. Words struck him in his heart, images of Jaskier, bright and cheerful. So much of Jaskier seemed out of reach, too perfect to be soiled by Geralt’s hands. 

“Even after all your bickerings he’s still by your side. I’d wager that says more than enough.”

Geralt furrowed his brows at this, unconvinced. Surely their acquaintance had just been misinterpreted, especially with the unpredictability of magic.

“Oh, Geralt, how can an observant witcher like you miss something as simple as that?” Yennefer laughed. “Makes me wonder how we ever worked at all.”

Geralt mulled over this new information with a heavy sigh. With Yennefer, it all seemed so simple. What they had worked and Geralt didn’t have to put much thought into it. Yet, with Jaskier it was so much more overwhelming. 

No wonder Jaskier would linger at times and why he would rush to Geralt when they reunited. Every little action began to make sense but then Geralt looked at himself. He questioned if what he had done meant anything. For him, it was common sense to make sure Jaskier ate enough or that he had whatever he needed for his lute. If that was love, as Yennefer was suggesting, then it seemed Geralt had more than he ever imagined.

“True love’s kiss then?” Yennefer teased, a proud look shining in her eyes. 

“Can’t exactly kiss a lark,” Geralt muttered. “Nor would I want that to be our first exchange.”

Yennefer placed a dramatic hand on her chest. “Oh, the very dreadful thought.”

Geralt glared at her as she giggled, but he allowed her to take the hand he had placed on the table. 

“Well, when you’re ready to tell him, I’m sure you two will find the right way to express that ‘true love’.”

Geralt rolled his eyes but before he could say anything else, there was a loud thump followed by a strangled chirp. 

“Oh, fuck, the window.”

Yennefer raced over to the sill, pushing the window open until she was hanging out of it, legs dangling. Geralt could only watch the scene as Yennefer reappeared, Jaskier cradled in her hands. She set him on the table and the two waited for Jaskier to collect himself. 

“Find any worms, Jaskier?” This only got her a tired peep and she smiled. “I’ll take that as a no then.”

Turning to Geralt, Jaskier shook himself before excited notes filling the room. He kept looking back at the window and Geralt did his best to figure out what Jaskier was trying to tell him. 

“There’s a lute shop? No? Fuck, um, someone we know. Not that either...gods, Jaskier, what, there’s a fucking job here that’ll earn us more than enough coin for the next month?”

The last one had been spoken out of frustration, but with Jaskier’s bobbing, Geralt was surprised that he had actually guessed right. 

“You two are insufferable,” Yennefer smiled. “Go on then, earn your coin. Once you figure out how to break the spell, let me know.”

There was too much emphasis on Yennefer’s final words, but Geralt merely gave her a nod goodbye, leaving with Jaskier on his shoulder. Once outside the cottage, Jaskier pestered Geralt some more, tangling with his hair. 

“No, Jaskier. We didn’t come up with a solution. She just made me realize...things.”

This stopped Jaskier and he fluttered his wings. 

Geralt pursed his lips. He could say it all, admit that there were feelings underneath all of this facade. Perhaps it could break the spell and then they’d be on their way like nothing happened. Except everything would happen, all at once, too much at once. Geralt wasn’t sure he could handle it. 

Emotions got in the way. Emotions distracted. It was in his blood after all these years and to stray from that struck fear in Geralt’s heart. He was never like this when fighting monsters or dealing with corrupted lords. Anything that dared to stand in his way was nothing more than a nuisance at most. 

But Jaskier, loving Jaskier, that was breaking Geralt down to his core, exposing him in unfamiliar ways. At any rate, he had told Yennefer he didn’t want it like this. If he were to let his guard down, to suggest the two of them being more, he wanted to have the chance to see Jaskier’s face while doing so. Then, everything could be confirmed for him, good or bad, and perhaps he wouldn’t be afraid. 

So, Geralt didn’t say anything else, leaving Jaskier to pull at his hair and pester him in other birdly ways. 

“I’ll tell you later.”

Geralt inhaled sharply as Jaskier set to pecking at his armor, but he refused to admit anything. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt bit. “Leave it be.”

Jaskier wouldn’t and it took Geralt grabbing hold of him for Jaskier to calm down, even as he wiggled in the grip. 

“You know, for a friend, you can be insufferable sometimes.” Geralt winced, wondering if there was a dragon nearby to swallow him up. 

Jaskier had gone still, his eyes staring up at Geralt. Geralt let him go then, but Jaskier forgot to open his wings and fell to the ground. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt stared down at the lark, hand reaching out. 

With a shake, Jaskier jumped into flight, singing brightly at Geralt. 

Rolling his eyes, Geralt headed back to the inn as Jaskier flew circles around Geralt like an excited dance. How his tongue slipped like that, Geralt had no idea. He had been caught in plenty of heated moments without falling back on sentimental words. Now, he had thrown open a door that Jaskier bounded through and he could only imagine Jaskier’s smugness coming that night. 

As soon as they reached a shop, it seemed the job in question found them first. A few middle-aged people approached Geralt, the leader of the group stepping out in front of them. 

“We’ve got a giant centipede on our hands. Well, two.”

“Someone try cutting it in half?” Geralt asked, the image of Yennefer popping into his mind. 

The man nodded, clearing his throat. “We have plenty of coin and we’ll allow you to stay at the inn for no charge. Can’t say about the drinks though.”

Geralt understood that all too well and nodded, finding the situation suitable. Centipedes weren’t too horrible, as long as Geralt had to only face one at a time. Then again, he had agreed to let Jaskier help, though he was sure Jaskier couldn’t do much against the armored insects. At least distractions provided something, but now there was the question of why Yennefer hadn’t tried to off the insectoids herself. Her magic was certainly strong enough. Geralt would probably find out the answer later, but it was still an annoyance at the back of his mind. 

“I’ll finish it tomorrow,” Geralt told the man. “I’m expecting a friend to arrive soon.”

It wasn’t an exact lie, after all it was mid-afternoon and Geralt had to finish as much as he could before he transformed. He didn’t want to risk going out now in case the job took longer than he expected. 

The group said their thanks before leaving Geralt and Jaskier alone. Shoulders dropping, Geralt set off on his errands, Jaskier in tow and hanging off of shop signs when he didn’t care to go inside. 

When they had reached a bladesmith, Geralt simply guessed what Jaskier would like amongst what was most sensible for their encounters. He only earned a few harsh pecks, but practicality dominated over looks. 

“The braided wreath would be too ornate,” Geralt commented once they were back on the streets. “When you want a hand with metal stabbed into it, then you can get a hilt like that.”

Jaskier stayed fairly quiet after that. 

At last, they were stocked up and Geralt glanced at the horizon. It would be time soon and he headed out of the town. 

“I’ll try to stay nearby. Can’t guarantee anything though.”

He headed into the inn, Jaskier staying outside on a nearby fence post, and went to their room, grabbing the pack that held Jaskier’s clothes. Upon passing the innkeeper, Geralt dug out a few coins and set them on the counter. 

“My friend will be performing tonight. I’d like to pay for his meal.”

“And you?” The innkeeper asked, snatching up the coin. 

“I have some centipedes to scout. Won’t be around,” Geralt quickly lied. 

His plan so far was to sneak into the stables and hang around Roach. Then, he could be tucked away while keeping track of Jaskier. Just how he was going to achieve that was another question entirely. As much as he stood out just being a witcher, he supposed the townsfolk wouldn’t take too kindly to a rogue wolf either. 

Outside, Geralt glanced once in Jaskier’s direction, waiting for the flap of wings before heading off in search of a secluded area, monster-free of course. The transformation was completed without much trouble and soon Jaskier was back into town, whistling a small tune to himself. 

“Hello,” he cheerfully waved at the innkeeper as he passed by. 

The innkeeper only raised their eyebrow as Jaskier went out the back door, bounding up the steps to his and Geralt’s room. He danced a little as he opened the door, spinning dramatically into the room.

“Ah, darling,” he sighed, picking up his lute. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

Taking the lute out of its pack, Jaskier did a quick tuning session before heading down to the main floor of the inn. Townsfolk had gathered and it seemed quite a popular spot with ale and cooked meals being shared all around. 

His first strum did not go unnoticed and Jaskier beamed at the attention now on him. Starting off with a jaunty tune, the townsfolk soon joined in, much to Jaskier’s delight. Soon, the night was filled with dancing and singing, not to mention a gracious amount of coin. 

“Your meal, sir, paid by your friend.”

Jaskier was approached mid-break by the innkeeper and he smiled brightly as he took the offering. How kind of Geralt to think of him. It was a fine stew with warm bread that Jaskier scarfed down as he thought about Geralt. Actions like this weren’t uncommon and while he hoped that meant more towards Geralt’s caring nature, he was also just glad for a full stomach. 

In the beginning, Geralt forgot about Jaskier’s more human needs. Not on purpose, of course, but reminders were necessary. Often when Jaskier was on the verge of passing out. Then, there was Geralt nursing him back to health, whether from sickness or starvation, whatever silly things decided to overcome Jaskier. 

Jaskier grinned to himself, remembering a particular incident close to winter. He had dressed properly, but even then there was only so much he could handle. A few days later saw him waking up in an inn, fussed over by Geralt if he so much moved an inch. 

While the fever had been awful, everything else was wonderful. Jaskier had been tempted many times to fake sickness again, but no thanks to Geralt’s senses, it would be found out immediately. So, he cherished the times he did get Geralt and Geralt alone, even amongst the aches and pains. 

After finishing his meal, Jaskier jumped into his second set, earning him some friendly chatter in the process. If it hadn’t been for the townsfolk needing to depart for some much needed rest, Jaskier would’ve stayed all night performing. 

“Fuck, Geralt,” he muttered to himself, remembering that the man had mentioned trying to hide by the inn. 

Making sure there were no stray eyes on him, Jaskier packed his lute and slipped away from the now sparse crowd. Sneaking out the back door, Jaskier searched the darkness, a little dejected when he didn’t see stark white instantly. 

“Geralt?” he whispered into the dark.

Around a corner, Geralt stuck his head out and Jaskier waved him over with a sigh of relief. Motioning up the staircase, Geralt headed up first as Jaskier checked their surroundings before following. He fumbled with the key, but at last the two entered their room and Jaskier quickly lit the candles. 

“The townsfolk here are very generous,” Jaskier set his lute carefully in a corner. “Nosy though. Wouldn’t stop asking about you. I had to come up with more lies than when I was caught with the Countess.”

Geralt snorted as he jumped onto the bed, taking his usual side. 

Jaskier toed off his boots, or at least tried, having to hop around on one foot to tug at the left which refused to come off with ease. “We got a letter from Yennefer too. She said she was too busy to be bothered by centipedes after an experimental spell went wrong. Honestly, what does she do in that dark, cramped cottage of hers? Is it even hers rightly?”

Stumbling, Jaskier at last got the boot off and he exhaled like one would after running a long distance. Geralt raised his brow and Jaskier waved him off, working on his doublet next. 

“As you won’t talk about the discussion held in my absence, I suppose I’ll have to think about other matters.”

Jaskier was always curious what Geralt and Yennefer got up to, usually making his own guesses. Today, however, probably involved him, leaving Jaskier desperate to know what that exactly entailed. Geralt had said they were friends and that didn’t happen just because. He’d have to coax it out of Geralt somehow, but the time had to be right. 

“Well,” Jaskier sighed, sitting on the bed. “Yennefer said it’ll take the two of us to break this spell. I’m surprised you calling me a friend today didn’t do the trick.” 

Laughing a little, Jaskier freed himself from his doublet, a smile stuck on his face. “I’m glad you finally admitted it. After how many years now?”

Geralt kicked at him with his hind leg and rolled onto his back, head hanging at an uncomfortable angle, paws in the air. The temptation was too much and Jaskier poked at Geralt’s side. 

“Am I allowed to pet you?”

Geralt answered with an abrupt sneeze, tail thumping a few times before Jaskier scratched his chest and stomach. When Jaskier dug in right at the middle, one of Geralt’s hind legs began to kick and Jaskier let out a delighted squeak. 

“Geralt, you’re too much in this form,” Jaskier grinned as Geralt’s leg sped up. “I might want to keep you like this.”

This set Geralt off into chaotic rolling like there was an itch he couldn’t scratch before he settled back on his stomach, pointedly not looking at Jaskier. 

“Aw, Geralt,” Jaskier pouted. “I was joking. Come back over.”

Jaskier grabbed at Geralt, but a paw shot at his face, smacking him square in the nose. 

“Fuck, that hurt you bastard,” Jaskier spat, clutching at his nose. He pulled his hands back to make sure he wasn’t bleeding and rolled onto his side away from Geralt, arms crossed. 

Geralt made a low noise, his paw pressing at the back of Jaskier’s head. 

“No, I’m mad at you now.” 

Jaskier could feel the shift in the bed, but he wasn’t expecting Geralt to flop his entire body across him, nearly having the wind knocked out of him. 

“Oh, you,” Jaskier grunted as he wiggled onto his back. “I’m expecting a full apology in the morning. Those claws need to be filed down.”

Geralt pushed himself up, looming over Jaskier before he stretched and laid back down on his side of the bed. He faced Jaskier, a front leg thrown across Jaskier’s arm. 

“Good night then,” Jaskier rolled his eyes. Grabbing the leg, Jaskier moved it up so it was now on his chest and to his joy, Geralt did not move it. 

There was more to be done tonight, Jaskier was sure, but for now, he didn’t care. He had a wolf cuddled up to him and he wasn’t about to let this moment be broken so soon


	5. Chapter 5

The field was flowing with the wind, wildflowers splashing the grass with vibrant reds and purples. It was a serene beauty, broken by the screams of insectoids as Geralt ran up a slope to gain some higher ground. 

He had managed to paralyze the centipedes with a Yrden sign trap, but once it wore off, it was up to Geralt to sense where they were burrowing to next. Luckily, the creatures weren’t running away, interested in protecting the fresh plot they had occupied. Jaskier zoomed by, alerting Geralt before taking to the skies again, above the fighting. The weaker centipede was coming, Geralt could feel it in the earth and braced himself. The centipede burst from the ground, directly under him and he went flying as the centipede lashed around in the open air. Scrambling to his feet, Geralt cast Yrden, and set to hacking at the paralyzed centipede until he felt another rumble, the second centipede shooting up a few yards away. 

Cursing, Geralt threw out another sign, then focusing on the first one in hopes of fatally wounding it. When the creature crumpled at last, Geralt sprinted over to the other one, praying the sign would hold for a little longer. The centipede was starting to shake and Geralt leapt at it, swiping at the exposed underbelly. It wasn’t enough, the centipede breaking free, jaws snapping at Geralt. He leapt out of the way just as Jaskier flew in, managing to confuse the centipede with harsh pecks. 

The centipede came down at Geralt and he stabbed true, twisting his sword as monster guts spilled out. He was covered in seconds, but the deed was done. The centipede let out a horrific screech as it breathed its last, the weight coming down on Geralt’s sword. If he didn’t get out of the way now, he’d be stuck under the awful thing so Geralt wretched out his sword with abandon. 

Geralt felt the aftershock of his sword hitting something, but he thought nothing of it as he watched the centipede fall. The deed was done and Geralt finally breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Jaskier?” he called, searching the skies for the lark. 

There was nothing, not even the flapping of wings and Geralt stilled. Frantically, he searched the ground, shoving at the brush. 

“Jaskier!” he shouted this time, his worst fear that Jaskier was under the centipede. 

It was then he caught the small, strangled chirp and he scrambled towards it, finding Jaskier a small crumpled heap on the ground. The centipede’s blood was on him but there was no sign of a bite. A wing hung uselessly off his side, his breathing labored. Geralt looked at his sword, instantly spotting where it had hit Jaskier. 

Throwing the weapon to the side, Geralt scooped Jaskier up into his hands, gently petting his body with a thumb. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt breathed. 

His chest grew tight as guilt washed over him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not again after all these years. 

Tucking Jaskier close to him, Geralt reluctantly grabbed his sword and set off back to the town running. Once again, he was falling back on Yennefer, but that mattered little compared to making sure Jaskier didn’t die by his hand. When he reached her cottage, she said nothing, only taking Jaskier from him and handing him a wet cloth in return. 

“He won’t die,” Yennefer reassured as she set Jaskier on a small pillow. “It’s not like the djinn, but I want to wait until he’s human to properly take care of the injury. 

Geralt nodded, worry twisting in his stomach. In fact, he hadn’t thought about the djinn incident at all. This time, it went deeper, more personal and he knew Yennefer could tell the moment she laid eyes on him. 

“Something at Kaer Morhen?” She spoke quietly.

Refusing to meet her gaze, Geralt got to his feet and all but threw his armor and weapons into a corner of the cottage. He refused to let that memory surface, jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides. 

“Rest,” was all Yennefer said, motioning to the bed. 

Knowing better than to argue, Geralt did as he was told, accepting the potion she handed him. Within a few breaths he drifted off, welcoming a dreamless sleep. 

Yennefer watched Geralt, making sure he was truly asleep before turning her attention back to Jaskier. The lark had closed his eyes as well, his chest heaving less and less without the anxiety eating at him. Resting her head in her hand, all Yennefer could do was wait with only her thoughts to keep her company.

* * *

“Ow.”

Yennefer glared at Jaskier as she finished wrapping the last of the bandage. 

The cottage was lit by candles, Geralt still asleep on the bed, though now as a wolf, while Jaskier and Yennefer were at the table. Jaskier was wrapped in a blanket with only his right arm sticking out, the last two fingers of his hand wrapped tightly together. 

It seemed that as a human, his injury turned out to just be a broken finger, but Jaskier lamented nonetheless. 

“Oh, so you’d rather have your whole body broken?” Yennefer chided as she cleaned up her supplies. 

“Of course not,” Jaskier scoffed. “But what use is a bard with an injured hand?”

“Quite a lot if I asked Geralt,” Yennefer muttered to herself. She could feel Jaskier’s eyes on her and she shook her head. “If I had known the centipedes would give you so much trouble, I would’ve lent a hand.”

“Says the one who cut the one in half and made it so we had to fight two,” Jaskier bit back. 

Yennefer’s eyes widened a little, anger shining in them before she exhaled. “Is that what they told you? Oh, Sweet, it was those stupid brutes about town. Thinking they could take care of it themselves. They laughed at me when I offered to help.” 

“So out of sheer pettiness, you were going to let them suffer?”

“Of course.” 

Jaskier couldn’t entirely blame her. Had he been in her position, he was sure he’d let his emotions get the best of him too. There was no use arguing about it now. The centipedes were dead and in a few days, Jaskier was sure he and Geralt would be on their way. Which way however was another matter entirely. 

“What happened at Kaer Morhen?” Jaskier spoke abruptly. 

Yennefer paused at her spot in front of the fireplace. She bristled a little with the knowledge that Jaskier had heard them earlier and refused to face the man. “I don’t know. I can’t see it.”

“What do you mean?”

With a sigh, Yennefer twisted her hands together, the curiosity eating at her as well. “Geralt’s hidden the memory well and I don’t dare try to dig further. It might hurt him, reliving the memory.”

“That bad?” Jaskier’s voice was just above a whisper.

Yennefer nodded, finally leaving the fireplace to sit across from Jaskier. They lingered in the silence, so unlike their usual banter. 

“There’s things even I don’t know about Geralt,” Yennefer began. “Sometimes I think he cares too much. He’d rather suffer alone than burden us with his past.”

Jaskier nodded, looking at Geralt’s sleeping form. As a wolf, Geralt became even more unreadable, but there was a sense of calm about him. His usual concerns seemed absent as he let himself simply exist in the moment.

Yennefer opened her mouth then, as if to say something more, before waving it off, leaving Jaskier with no explanation. 

“What?” Jaskier prodded. 

With a small laugh, Yennefer shook her head. “Not my place to say exactly, but I know you are an exception to him. To every rule, every moral he’s built, you’re one of the only people he’ll bend for.”

“Surely not,” Jaskier retorted. “He has you.”

Sighing deeply, Yennefer got to her feet and went over to the bed. A hand on Geralt’s back was all it took for him to lift his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. 

“Off you two go then,” she motioned with her head. “Jaskier had a broken finger. My magic’s healed it well enough, but I want him to keep his hand in the splinter overnight”

Geralt nodded, hopping off the bed as Jaskier was left to stare at her. There was more to what she had said, but with the look in her eyes, Jaskier knew he had no chance to prod more. With coaxing from Yennefer and only an exasperated look from Geralt, Jaskier dressed in Geralt’s clothing before the two made their way back to the inn. 

Everything was too large on him and Jaskier couldn’t help blush at the intimacy within this action. He knew Geralt saw it as means to an end, but Jaskier was caught up in the feeling of the cloth, the small scent that came with it. Even after Yennefer had cleaned them thoroughly, the familiarity was still there as if woven into the very fabric. When they reached their room, Jaskier was tempted to keep the clothes on, no matter what suspicions it brought on. Common sense got the better of him and he changed, neatly folding the clothing on top of the lone chair in the room. 

Geralt was once again turned away from him, lying on the bed as if he hadn’t been sleeping for most of the afternoon. Yennefer’s words echoed in Jaskier’s mind and he gritted his teeth, refusing to believe any of it. Geralt loved Yennefer. She would always come first and it hurt for Jaskier to admit that. 

For now, he needed to ignore his envy and pain. He had been given something else to focus on. The adventures, the songs, the stories, it had to be enough because Jaskier would never have Geralt. They were two lines that would never cross, stretching into infinity. 

Jaskier swallowed the lump in his throat, then blowing out the candles one by one. With each breath, Jaskier’s resolve crumbled and the first of his tears trailed down his face just as the last candle was extinguished.


	6. Chapter 6

With bags of coin in hand, Geralt and Jaskier were ready to depart, on to the next job or rather, the next step in breaking their spell. 

They had spent a few more days in town, waiting for Jaskier’s sword to be completed, and that made them overnight celebrities. Children would ask Geralt to play while at night, Jaskier was fawned over by men and women alike. 

Yennefer kept her distance, though there was a friendly meal shared here and there. Conversations were strained with the recent information on their hands, but none made a move to discuss it further. When the sword was collected, it was time to leave, and Yennefer walked them to the edge of town. 

As they said their goodbyes, Geralt did not miss her pointed stare, but it did little convincing him to at least try with Jaskier. There was a more pressing conversation, that being the part of what Geralt had heard the night Jaskier was healing. Kaer Morhen was home, despite the past that came with it. He had never talked about it much with Jaskier, not finding a reason to. Now, awful little things bit at the back of his mind, crawling under Geralt’s skin. 

They had been traveling for a few hours now, Jaskier perched on the horn of Roach’s saddle, looking out like a captain on a ship. He had been quiet as they plodded along, occasionally glancing back at Geralt over his shoulder. Geralt knew he was waiting for the other shoe to drop and it was chipping away at him.

This wasn’t necessary, Jaskier didn’t need to know anything. 

But Geralt wanted him to. Over the course of the morning, his soul screamed to be heard, to perhaps find solace in the one man he held dear to his heart.

Geralt was burning from the inside and he cleared his throat to get Jaskier’s attention. The lark hopped to face him, head tilted. 

“I had a friend,” Geralt admitted. “Long ago, back when I was in training. His name was Gweld.” 

Jaskier peeped, leaving Geralt thankful he didn’t have to deal with Jaskier’s human expressions right now. It would be overwhelming and he was already falling over the edge.

“There’s...not much to say.” 

There was too much. The pain was still there, the memories a scar on his mind. Geralt could never decide what would be worse, forgetting Gweld altogether or having to keep that scene in his mind. 

Even though they were the only ones on the road, Geralt still felt exposed out in the daylight like this. Confessions were meant for dark nights, a slip of the tongue as the other was falling asleep. 

“It was supposed to be a tournament between the different schools,” Geralt explained, a straining in his heart. “Gweld and I had been sparring to start the competition, but as soon as we realized that we were to be killed, they took him from me.”

Geralt could feel his voice starting to shake. There was not a time in his life where he had this discomfort, this rawness tearing at him. The memories hit him like blows to the stomach and he didn’t want to continue. 

Jaskier, understanding as ever, hopped onto Geralt’s shoulder and pressed his head to Geralt’s neck. It was a small comfort and Geralt found the strength to say what hadn’t been uttered since the very event. 

“He was under a mind control spell. He didn’t know me. I didn’t have a choice or he might’ve slaughtered us all.”

The blood, the piercing sword, it all played itself again and again, his heart falling to pieces as he remembered the look on Gweld’s face. It was in that instant the spell was broken, but nothing could be done as Geralt watched his friend die. 

It wasn’t until Jaskier had flown to his hands that Geral realized how tightly he had been gripping the reins. Letting out a shaky breath, Geralt watched as his fists loosened and Jaskier settled in the palms of his hands. 

“I’m alright, Jaskier,” Geralt lied. 

His heart still clenched in his chest, his eyes burning though no tears would fall. He pet Jaskier with one finger, letting the lark press into his touch. Just that action alone began to calm Geralt’s heart and he gazed at Jaskier.

“Thank you,” he spoke, the slightest shake to his voice. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Jaskier nestled into Geralt’s hold and the two settled into a comfortable silence, the road offering them a clear path. Geralt exhaled, his body settling back into its normal state. Remembering had been almost unbearable, but now, Geralt was able to think about Gweld for the first time in years. 

From childhood, they had latched onto each other, making promises and planning their lives as witchers. They were supposed to be together always, but then the Cat school had to betray them all, consorting with a king to kill off the Wolf students. 

It was that day Geralt had made his resolution and he almost stuck to it. He hadn’t planned on meeting Jaskier, the one person so persistent that Geralt was forced to tear down his walls. For that, he was now eternally grateful. As much as he disliked talking, opening himself up, this moment showed him that there was something to it all. There was something to Jaskier, more importantly. With his hopeful spirit, his determination, Geralt soon realized he didn’t have to be alone. 

He would have to find some way to show his gratitude, more than just a simple thank you. Jaskier deserved better than that and this thought carried Geralt through until the sun had set. 

After the transformation, the two companions regarded each other with a nod before each went their separate ways around the fire. 

Jaskier said nothing as he dressed. Geralt had laid himself bare today, finally answering questions that had settled on Jaskier’s mind long ago. It almost didn’t feel right, to know this part of Geralt. He had to relive the trauma all because of Jaskier’s insatiable curiosity. 

Watching Geralt pad off into the woods, Jaskier stood where he was, not wanting to move or feel much of anything at all. Playing his lute was out of the question, but sitting in silence wasn’t appealing either. 

Jaskier hoped Geralt would come back from his hunting soon, if only so he could pretend to talk about other things that didn’t matter. The spell was beginning to eat at him, this inability to respond to each other, unable to offer a warm hand. Earlier today, Jaskier had wanted nothing more than to hug Geralt and offer his sympathies. All he ever wanted was to be a physical comfort for Geralt at times like this. Loving Geralt hadn’t been easy before, but now it was torture. 

A sharp yelp rang in the forest then, jolting Jaskier out of his thoughts. 

His blood ran cold, recognizing the sound immediately. “Geralt?” He called, searching in the direction Geralt had run off in. 

There was a low growl then and Jaskier ran to the noise, not caring if there was anything else about. As Geralt came into view at last, Jaskier could see the steel trap that had captured one of his front legs, the white fur staining with blood. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Jaskier’s breath hitched before he took hold of the trap. 

Careful to not let his own hands get torn up by the sharp, jagged teeth, Jaskier strained to pull the metal apart. He could feel the tearing of Geralt’s skin, but at last, he managed to spread the trap apart just enough for Geralt to pull his leg free. 

Without any hesitation, Jaskier picked Geralt up, arms cradling the bottom of Geralt while his front paws hung over Jaskier’s shoulder. Even with the weight, Jaskier was able to make it back to the camp quickly, setting Geralt down before rushing over to their packs. He dumped the contents of the medicine bag out, grabbing whatever seemed necessary. 

In that time, Geralt’s stubbornness had taken over and he got to his feet, limping over to Jaskier.

“No, you are injured and you’re going to lay there like the good wolf you are,” Jaskier chided, pushing Geralt’s large form to the ground. 

Geralt bared his teeth, but finally relented, eyes darting around as Jaskier opened a bottle of salve. He poured it over the wound, receiving a low growl that Jaskier only shook his head at. 

“Yes, I know it hurts, but we can’t let it get worse. Who knows how long that trap has been there.”

Jaskier lifted Geralt’s paw gingerly as he wrapped the bandages around it, hoping Geralt was as quick of a healer in wolf form. Geralt barely lifted his head once the job was done and Jaskier gave him a small pet before he took off his doublet to inspect it. 

“Well, at least this one is red,” he set it off to the side. Now that the initial shock was over, Jaskier was able to replay it all in his mind, smiling a little at how easily he had picked up Geralt. 

“Can you imagine me carrying you like that all the time?” Jasker commented as he gazed up at the sky. 

There were stars hidden amongst the treetops, some gaps just barely large enough to see one star at all. Jaskier felt small, thinking about how much there was waiting in the world. Perhaps one day, they would touch the very moon itself. Jaskier’s heart stirred and he glanced back down at Geralt who was just staring ahead. 

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he began, voice soft and low. 

Why now of all times Jaskier felt the need to say this was beyond him. However, there was no stopping now and Geralt hadn’t shifted away yet.

“It’s easy to say it wasn’t your fault, but I know that doesn’t stop the pain. Caring for others takes its toll, sometimes making things worse than you ever intended. When you have the people that matter though, they’ll always be there to guide you at your side.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure if he even understood his own words and he bit his lip, trying one last time. 

“As long as you keep him in your heart, I think that’s all he could ever ask of you.”

Geralt’s chest heaved, as if he were about to cry, and Jaskier was quick to pull him into a hug. He felt his own tears surfacing as he pet the wolf, wishing he could take all of Geralt’s pain away. He’d give anything just to have Geralt content and happy, but he didn’t know what he could offer right now so he began to sing. 

It was a lullaby from his childhood, soft and slow, that Jaskier had fallen asleep to many a time. It talked of adventurous dreams, trekking into the unknown, not much unlike the life Jaskier had with Geralt over the years. 

He supposed that’s where his spirited nature grew from and he held Geralt close, feeling the wolf relax bit by bit. As different as they could be, it was times like this where Jaskier was sure they understood each other. There was an unspoken trust underneath it all, almost comparable to soulmates. 

Surely they were in a friendly sort of way and Jaskier gazed down at Geralt as his love and admiration for the man grew. With long strokes down Geralt’s back, the two seemed at peace and Jaskier settled behind Geralt, pulling him close as he sang some more.

* * *

Geralt’s arm had healed by the morning. 

Taking off the bandages, Geralt flexed his hand, staring at where the trap marks would’ve been on his forearm. 

Had Jaskier not been there, Geralt could only imagine what grisely actions he would’ve resorted to. Fate was laughing at him as Jaskier had been pushed to him again, the two needing each other in almost every way. 

Geralt frowned, those words echoing in his mind. There was no almost. He couldn’t hesitate like that. He knew where his feelings lied with Jaskier, last night only confirmed it, and he cursed under his breath. If it wasn’t for the spell, they could already be building their relationship. Maybe in another timeline, Geralt had already plucked up the courage to admit he loved Jaskier and to tell it to the man’s face too. 

Now, whether it was stubbornness or worry, Geralt didn’t want to rush. Yesterday had been exhausting enough, he wasn’t sure if he could handle confessing to Jaskier. There’d be too much stumbling over his own feet, trying to figure out how to treat Jaskier like a lover properly. Of all things that made him nervous, this was the most laughable except Geralt wasn’t laughing. 

All he could do for now was focus on breaking the spell. By then, he’d have it all planned out and be able to embrace Jaskier then too. 

So, Geralt hid it all as they travelled into the morning sun, their path hardly a matter at all. They were by each other’s side and that was the only thing that seemed to matter.


	7. Chapter 7

After days of questioning, it seemed all was a lost cause. 

The answers from locals and healers were even more speculative than Yennefer’s and no one had heard of their mage, to the point where Geralt and Jaskier wondered if he even existed. 

“Is there some kind of potion we can make?” Jaskier asked as he poked a stick at their fire. 

He was willing to try anything at this point, besides the one that still tugged at his heartstrings. True love’s kiss was fantasy, especially when it came to him and Geralt. Jaskier had thought about it, but with how brash Geralt could be, Jaskier knew if Geralt did feel the same, he would have done something about it by now. 

When Geralt got to his feet, Jaskier watched with curiosity as he went over to Roach. The wolf paused for a moment before digging through one of the packs with his nose, causing a few bottles to spill out. Picking up one in his mouth, Geralt brought a bottle over to Jaskier, dropping it in his lap.

“All right, lavender oil,” Jaskier read over the label. “What other ingredients? Is there anything in the area surrounding us?”

Geralt sniffed the air before shaking his head. He fiddled with a few more bottles, but no others were passed to Jaskier. 

“Tell me in the morning then. I suppose I’ll have to keep an eye out for flowers and such since I have the positional advantage?”

This was met with a nod, and Jaskier was pleased to have come up with a potential cure. That was, if it had any effect at all. 

“What’s the worst case if the potion isn’t right?” Jaskier asked. “Could we die?”

Geralt’s silence had dozens of meanings, but in a form where he couldn’t talk, Jaskier wasn’t sure how to interpret it.Geralt had laid his head down on his paws, leaving Jaskier to fidget in annoyance. Not at Geralt, of course, but with the situation at hand. 

While he loved talking, Jaskier missed conversation. Even if what most of Geralt gave him was grunts or one word sentences, it was still more than what was happening now. 

“Well, if we die, we die together right?” Jaskier joked to ease the tension. 

Geralt huffed, slapping a paw on one of Jaskier’s feet. This wouldn’t be the first time they’d be faced with that consequence and knowing their luck, they’d get by with the skin of their teeth. Jaskier supposed they were just tired enough to not care anymore, willing to try the fantastical just to get some results. Remembering some of what Yennefer had said, Jaskier frowned and looked at Geralt. 

“You...wouldn’t kill me, if it meant breaking the spell, would you?” 

Jaskier meant this with a lighter tone, again just to make conversation, but Geralt seemed to think otherwise and sat up. With a quiet woof, Geralt pressed a wet nose to Jaskier’s ear and Jaskier yelped.

“Geralt!” he scolded, wiping his ear off with disgust. “You’re a scamp, you are. All right, I trust you. I promise.”

Pleased with this answer, Geralt took the opportunity to lay across Jaskier’s legs then, his tongue hanging out with contented happy pants. 

“Is this really the mighty Geralt of Rivia?” Jaskier teased. “From your cat eyes to this, I’m not sure which I find more delightful.”

A huff was the only answer Jaskier was getting tonight and he gave Geralt a small hug before settling into a more comfortable seated position. The songs about their time as animals would be many, but as he looked down at Geralt, Jaskier decided that maybe there were some parts he wanted to keep just to himself.

* * *

Geralt had a long list to go over. 

From finding ingredients to figuring out if he could properly mix the potion himself, there was a new determination surrounding him and Jaskier. All for some hope. 

Geralt had grimaced at that part, but not trying to break the spell at all was worse at this point and he kept his thoughts to himself. After all, he had other things to keep him from speaking his mind. Like Jaskier, for instance, and how warm their companionship had been over the past couple of weeks. 

As focused as he had been on confessing, he wanted Jaskier to admit his feelings too. Nights were sometimes too much as Jaskier doubted what they were. Geralt could see when he held back from saying more. If he could just shout his love to the sky, Geralt would, but that wasn’t who he was. That wasn’t the right way to do it. 

The grass shifted then and Geralt stared ahead to see the small bazaar in the distance. There were canopies of tents amongst a village, bright colors and sounds attracting everyone in the area. There were bound to be some apothecaries and Geralt knew Jaskier had picked up on this from his singular chirp. 

Nearing the bazaar, Geralt could hear the music, woodwinds and drums, mixed with the smells of meat and bread being cooked over open flames. Children ran unsupervised as patrons shopped, bickerings and laughter combining into a cacophony that Geralt did his best to ignore. 

He dismounted Roach and waved Jaskier down as they entered the bazaar at last. Geralt got his usual stares, but no trouble was given as Geralt searched for an inn. Jaskier, distracted by all the wares, tried to stop Geralt several times. 

“Let me stable Roach first. Then we can come back,” Geralt explained. 

The innkeeper was a pleasant woman, happily accepting Geralt’s coin as a stablehand led Roach away. It seemed with all the festivities going on, there was only one room left, and she had been saving it for, “The right party,” as she put it. Geralt was just glad to have the room secured and he headed to the bazaar to find anything of value. 

Geralt had to stop Jaskier from flying over to the jewelry, but he took note of one ring Jaskier had managed to hop on. Buying some freshly made bread, Geralt shared it between them and took solace in a small corner that allowed him to watch the movement of the bazaar. There were all sorts of characters out today, some that could potentially mean trouble. Geralt wasn’t interested in a fight, but sometimes he had no choice. 

“Keep your sword on you when you perform tonight,” Geralt started, guessing Jaskier’s plans already. “There’s a few figures I don’t trust and not for the usual reasons.”

Jaskier peeped his understanding, snatching another piece of bread from Geralt. He tugged at Geralt’s hair then, starting up another guessing game. 

“Did you want to scout out an apothecary?” Geralt was quick to keep Jaskier focused and the lark nodded. 

Geralt motioned him off with his head, making sure Jaskier was out of sight before he hurried back to the jeweler. Of course the ring Jaskier had chosen was overpriced, but Geralt paid anyway, examining the ring once he was back in his corner. It was a simple design, vines intertwined together in a silver finish. In the center lay an amber stone and Geralt wondered if it indeed matched the color of his own eyes. Tucking the ring away, Geralt stood with his arms crossed, a brooding character, as he waited for Jaskier’s return. Right on cue, there was Jaskier zooming down and chirping excitedly. Geralt followed him to the apothecary and to their luck, it was stocked to the brim, even with items Geralt thought were long since past. 

The two left the apothecary with more than enough ingredients to make several potions, but Geralt hoped it would only take the first one he had thought of. 

Back at the inn, Geralt checked over their supplies, trying to ignore the temptation of laying back down on the bed. It was soft and the room itself was spacious with the cleanest conditions Geralt had seen yet. A bathtub sat in a corner by a fireplace that had furs spread out in front of it. Geralt ached for a bath, but business came first. 

“We’ll have to take the potion at the same time,” Geralt explained as he mixed and ground some herbs together. “I’m fine drinking it as a wolf unless you’d prefer to do it in your state.”

Jaskier shook his head and Geralt nodded his understanding. He was thankful to have the wolf form, still built with power and sharp senses to keep him and Jaskier safe. As Geralt worked on the potion, he remembered the ring he bought for Jaskier and wondered if he should give it to Jaskier now. It would raise suspicion, but Geralt’s eagerness was winning the fight. After all, it was just a gift, not an outright declaration of his love. 

“I saw you looking at this in the bazaar,” Geralt said as he set the ring on the table next to him. “It’s for you.”

The room was quiet before Jaskier filled it with an excited song. He flew to Geralt’s shoulder, wings aflutter as he jumped around, pecking occasionally at Geralt’s face. Focusing back on the ring, Jaskier nearly sat on it as if it were an egg as he looked at Geralt with those beady eyes. 

“You’re welcome,” Geralt spoke with the hint of a smile. 

Seeing Jaskier happy raised Geralt’s spirits and he worked with a new vigor, the potion almost finished as the sun fell. Geralt told Jaskier it would need a proper brew, some time for the ingredients to infuse together, but then, it would be ready. 

Jaskier danced around the room as he tuned his lute, the ring finding its place on his right hand. He admired it as he buckled his sword around his waist, the candlelight shining off of it much like Geralt’s eyes in a busy banquet hall. 

“I”m off,” Jaskier pat Geralt on the side. “Don’t get into mischief.”

He waited for Geralt’s sigh before heading down to the main part of the inn, grinning wildly at the sight before him. Everyone and no one stuck out in their patterned clothing, the differing classes and more than Jaskier could focus on. It seemed his presence alerted the room and all eyes were on him. 

“Oh, the White Wolf’s bard!” a woman clapped. “Are you here to play us some songs?”

“Naturally,” Jaskier bowed, pleased when he got some delighted cheers out of this. 

The woman’s words echoed in his mind. They knew he belonged to Geralt. While his safety was of concern, Jaskier cared more that he had earned his place in Geralt’s life. Sure, the title could mean nothing at all, but Jaskier felt above the world as he performed, singing about Geralt’s heroics. 

Amid his breaks, Jaskier was praised, given free offerings, including a fortune teller who wanted to read his palms. Jaskier indulged her, nodding through the predictions of a long and happy life, his bard skills known throughout the land. 

That was until she tapped his palm once and spoke in a low tone. “In two days time, you will meet your end. You and your wolf will be reunited in fire and blood.”

Jaskier jerked his hand back and stared as the woman gave him a placated smile. With a short thank you, Jaskier walked away from her, frowning. That had hit too close, the vagueness of the statement leaving Jaskier anxious. He excused himself from the room, retiring earlier than he usually did to talk to Geralt about what had just happened.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about prophecies, would you, Geralt?” Jaskier asked the moment he opened the door.

There was a thick silence between them and Jaskier put his hands on his hips.

“Downstairs, a fortune teller told me we’re going to be reunited in two days. She said there’d be fire and blood.”

Geralt looked at his paws as he took in this information, then giving a short bark as his answer. 

“Fantastic. Are we charging straight into a burning hut, bathing in the blood of our enemies, or…?” Jaskier waved his hand trying to think of a word. “Or what.”

So much for boasting about his poetry skills. 

Geralt gave him a wary eye followed by a small hack as if he had swallowed too quickly. Jaskier wrinkled his nose at the offending noise, half-expecting for Geralt to throw up on the bed. 

“Well, thank you very much,” Jaskier chided. “If you do that after our spell is broken, you’re not sleeping anywhere near me.”

With a content narrowing of his eyes, Geralt thumped his tail twice and rolled just enough onto his side, that his belly was now exposed. 

“Oh, alright,” Jaskier rolled his eyes even though these were the moments he loved most. 

Climbing onto the bed, Jaskier gave Geralt his stomach rubs, earning him a few sneezes when he got too close to Geralt’s face. How he put up with this man, or rather wolf, was beyond him and he found himself underneath Geralt’s weight not long after. This was their new normal after all. 

Jaskier fell asleep holding onto Geralt and when morning came, Geralt found Jaskier tucked close to his head. 

Geralt would be lying if he said he didn’t hate what the spell had done to them. There was no way for him to pull Jaskier closer, to convince the two of them to stay in bed a little longer. Instead, it was back to the grindstone, pretending nothing had happened and all that mattered was breaking the spell. 

The potion had settled well over the night and soon it would be ready to drink within the next couple of days. With a few stirs, adding extra ingredients here and there, Geralt decided he didn’t want to stay cooped up in the room all day and headed into the streets with Jaskier in tow. 

Again, he bought some fresh food before settling them on a fountain in the center of the town. People were going about their lives, only a few avoiding Geralt as they walked down crowded streets. Geralt listened intently to passing conversation, if only for his and Jaskier’s safety. 

“Whole crop just went and shriveled up,” a farmer commented to another as he pushed his wheelbarrow past. “Last week, the river had gone dry too.”

Geralt paused his chewing, slowly getting to his feet to hear what more the farmer had to say. 

“From fires to dust storms, something’s coming from the north and that’s why we’re moving out.”

Jaskier let out a small peep then and Geralt nodded. “Sounds like our mage.”

Geralt frowned then, wondering what brought the mage so close. It seemed too much like coincidence and he headed back to the inn, checking on Roach in the stables. Jaskier sat nearby as Geralt brushed her down, letting Geralt collect his thoughts. 

“That farmer isn’t from here,” Geralt started, “But that doesn’t mean we’re safe. We’ll need to keep a low cover, back into the forests.”

It was the only thing that made sense right now. If they stayed at the inn any longer, someone was going to ask questions, point the wrong parties in their direction. 

“Sorry,” Geralt sighed when he saw Jaskier duck his head. “I know we don’t get a nice room often. I’ll make it up to you once the spell is broken.”

Jaskier nodded, seemingly appeased as Geralt prepared Roach, saddle and all. To his relief, the innkeeper didn’t mind about Geralt’s abrupt departure, though he was sure it was because he gave her a few more coins than necessary. 

They traveled for the rest of the day until they reached a secluded clearing that Geralt deemed safe enough. It had to be for now and the two settled in as comfortably as they could for the night.

Just a few more days. Then, they’d finally be able to go back to normal. However, neither wanted ‘normal’ again. If somehow they could convince the other to remain as they were, the affection, the companionship, then perhaps their future wouldn’t seem so impending. 

Yet, both remained quiet, figuring there were better times to discuss such matters. After all, the spell came first and there didn’t need to be anything in the way of that, not even love.


	8. Chapter 8

Geralt was in a gloomy state. 

He couldn’t talk about it, no matter how much Jaskier poked at him. He wasn’t sad, but he wasn’t angry either. It was something he never quite felt before and he was thankful when Jaskier finally occupied himself in the trees. 

Suddenly, everything was so much. It was as if nearing the end was the wrong path and that he and Jaskier were headed into the unknown. An unknown where good and bad combined, upsetting what had formed between the two of them in an instant. 

Geralt paced around their makeshift camp, a burning in his soul. It was times like these Geralt wanted to fall asleep and not wake up until months later. It was tiring him out as if he had taken on several drowners in one go, but he couldn’t stay still. 

He marched a few paces away, sorting through his frantic mind. He was worried about the potion going horribly wrong and then he was caught up in what they would do if the mage found them first. In all of it, there was the whole situation of what he and Jaskier were to become after all was said and done. 

They wouldn’t be perfect, no one ever was, but Geralt was afraid of being anything less. Besides Yennefer, there hadn’t been an option for love in Geralt’s life. He was someone people feared, a heartless creature prowling about the land. The last thing he wanted was Jaskier to see him that way and Geralt often wondered if it was even worth trying at all.

He kicked at the ground, wishing Jaskier hadn’t flown off now. He could use a listening ear, if only to sort through the dilemma with the potion. The more Geralt thought about it, the more he couldn’t get Jaskier out of his head.

It was then Geralt was able to put his finger on the quaking feeling in his chest. Jaskier had described the emotion many times in his songs. The one thing Geralt didn’t expect was just how painful it actually was. 

He was yearning, for gods’ sake, aching to reach out for Jaskier, to hold him in a tight embrace. His heart stumbled on a wary line that strung itself alongside Yennefer, but Geralt couldn’t think of her. All he saw was Jaskier, hearing him, feeling him, loving him. It struck Geralt down to his bones and he stared at his hands that flexed in front of him. He felt as though he was leaving his body, staring at it through someone else’s eyes. He turned, half expecting to see Jaskier looking at him, but the lark was nowhere to be seen. Geralt let out a breath, one that was not because of relief. 

Fuck it all, it was time to tell Jaskier. He couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, to pretend that he didn’t love Jaskier with all his heart. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt practically yelled at the treetops.

There was nothing at first. Geralt’s stomach turned, his courage waning by the second. Grumbling to himself, Geralt tried to remain in his spot and he listened for the flap of wings. At last, Jaskier came down from the trees, a bright song filling the air. When he landed near Geralt, he chirped, hopping up and down. 

“Um…” Geralt thought over his words, his heart suddenly beating in his ears. “What do you want to eat tonight?”

Geralt’s declaration of love had dried up in his throat. With Jaskier staring at him, Geralt didn’t want to speak so openly and instead, his mind defaulted to idle conversation. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get the words out. It would’ve been so much easier if Jaskier was human because then he could at least take hold of Jaskier’s hand to calm himself down. 

Geralt swore quietly as he pretended to root through Roach’s saddlebags. She gave him an incredulous look and Geralt glared back. 

“It’s not easy, alright?” he hissed at her. “Try it yourself sometime.”

Roach shook her head with a small whinny and Geralt pressed his forehead into her neck. She was right. It was now or never. Geralt spun around, spotting Jaskier hopping at their soon-to-be fire and opened his mouth. 

“–I do wish these transformations weren’t so abrupt,”Jaskier stared at the canopy above him. “Suppose it happens when I’m sitting on a branch high up. Then what?”

Getting to his feet, Jaskier helped Geralt crawl out of his clothes before getting dressed himself. Geralt collapsed onto the ground, a low moan leaving him. 

“Something wrong, Geralt?” Jaskier stepped over, laying a hand on the wolf’s side. 

Geralt turned an eye to him but nothing more. With darkness enveloping them, Jaskier wouldn’t be able to see a thing, so he lit the small pile of brush, a small flame illuminating his face. 

“If you’ve been sick all this time, I’ll almost be tempted to say you deserved it,” Jaskier turned his attention back to Geralt. “We take care of each other and I don’t want to hear your squabbles about it.”

Geralt whined, pitifully, and Jaskier watched as the wolf ran his paws down his snout. 

“Goodness, we do have something on our hands.”

Reaching out, Jaskier stopped Geralt’s pawing and held him by the muzzle to properly look him over. 

“Fleas?” Jaskier guessed, but this only got him a violent huff and Geralt getting to his feet. “Alright, sorry. Just trying to help.”

Geralt laid across his lap then, tucking his head underneath Jaskier’s. With a smile, Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt, cradling him as he would a child. 

“Is this all you want? Some affection?” Jaskier teased as Geralt’s tail began to wag.

Giving Geralt a quick squeeze, Jaskier cuddled with him, scratching behind his ears where he knew Geralt liked. 

“Imagine if people saw you now. Imagine if Yennefer saw you now.” Jaskier smiled, gazing into the fire. “They’d think you’d gone soft.”

Not that Jaskier minded. Being allowed this privilege meant the world, though he assumed Geralt had finally allowed himself to enjoy some of the simpler pleasures of life. After all, Jaskier knew plenty of people who would ask their friends for affection such as this and Jaskier was happy he and Geralt had gotten to this point. 

If only, Jaskier thought to himself, that this meant more than it did. That Geralt loved him as he did Yennefer. But as soon as Jaskier imagined that, the instant he shoved it to the side. He shouldn’t be greedy, not when he had Geralt after all these years. 

“I’m glad we’re friends, Geralt,” Jaskier murmured. 

It hurt, saying those words, but Jaskier ignored it. How he wasn’t used to the pain by now was beyond him and he carried on to distract himself. 

“It’ll be nice to have a proper conversation again, to watch you try to hide your smiles.”

Geralt nudged Jaskier’s chin and the man laughed. 

“I’ve seen them, Geralt. You act all tough and stoic, but underneath it all, you’re a lover.”

A blush crept up to Jaskier’s cheeks. It was almost too easy to expose himself with Geralt in this state. Jaskier had half a mind to actually say what he had hidden for so long. After all, he wouldn’t have to deal with Geralt’s harsh stare. As a wolf, his gazes were easier to brush off and Jaskier could just pretend he had an actual animal on his hands. 

Shaking his head, Jaskier decided against it. There was no point. He had his chance over the years and he knew the answer that awaited him. In a way, it was better to say nothing than to deal with the inevitable heart-break.

Geralt glanced up at him and Jaskier tried to wave it off. 

“Silly thoughts for another time,” he lied. 

Even with Geralt like this, Jaskier could still tell when he wasn’t happy with an answer. He never asked more and Jaskier wondered what he did in his stewing silence. 

“When–” Jaskier’s voice broke. “When we’re back to normal, perhaps it’s time we sat down and talked.”

Worry was apparent when Geralt sat back, a paw on Jaskier’s arm.

“Nothing bad, Geralt. I promise. I’m not leaving if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Geralt relaxed at this, his ears flickering about as if he couldn’t decide to focus on Jaskier or the forest around them. Then, Geralt snapped his head towards a thicket, his body tensing. Jaskier noticed the change too, the way the air held its breath, the trees closing in. 

With a swallow, he scooted over to his sword and held it close as he watched Geralt study the area. Something was watching them and Jaskier was sure it had been for a while now. They had both been distracted, but it was too late for taking the blame. Getting to his feet, Jaskier followed Geralt to the edge of their campsite and held his breath as Geralt sniffed at the air. 

If it was a fight the presence wanted, then it was a fight they were getting, and Jaskier drew his sword, fear clawing at his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

“Well, well, It looks like one of my spells hit after all.”

It was the mage, brooding and cloaked, who walked into the clearing. Jaskier would know him anywhere. His grin was too proud, arrogance radiating off of him, and Jaskier took a step back, hair standing on end. Next to him, Geralt growled, baring his teeth. 

“Don’t you dare take a step further,” Jaskier raised his sword, pointing it at the mage. 

The mage laughed, a fireball forming in his hand. “As if that would stop me.”

The rage in Jaskier grew and he held his stance, daring the mage to come closer. He wanted nothing more than to slash the mage where he stood, but distance was the mage’s advantage.

“I’ve come to finish a job, witcher. Shame about you though,” the mage acknowledged Jaskier. “Would’ve preferred just the witcher’s blood on my hands.”

“You won’t be getting either,” Jaskier growled.

The mage shot off a fireball and Jaskier narrowly avoided it, ducking behind some trees for cover. Blast after blast came, setting bark alight as Jaskier tried to find an opening. He couldn’t see Geralt and he only hoped the wolf was safely away. The fireballs had ceased then, but glowing orbs continued to shoot near Jaskier, the ground quaking and throwing him off-balance. 

“Geralt!” he called out, running frantically through the brush. 

Through the leaves, he saw Geralt leap at the mage from behind, managing to knock him over as he bit down on his shoulder. Running out to help, Jaskier was then flung backwards and he landed on his back, the wind leaving him. He tried to get to his feet, but he could only grab at the ground, wincing in pain. When at last his strength returned, Jasker pushed himself up with his sword to see Geralt and the mage caught in a physical fight.

Geralt had managed to injure one of the mage’s hands, blood covering his skin and coating Geralt’s fur as he shoved him away, sending Geralt flying with another spell. Jaskier ran forward, catching the mage off-guard and striking him in the stomach. Black liquid spluttered from the mage’s mouth, but he grabbed hold of Jaskier’s forearm, his grip iron strong as Jaskier tried to pull away. From the sickening crack to the pain coursing through his body, Jaskier saw white and crumpled to the ground with a strangled yell. 

Through blurry eyes, Jaskier watched as Geralt pounced upon the mage, jaw wide as his teeth sank into the mage’s neck. Relief washed over Jaskier as shock took over, but then Geralt was gone with a sharp yelp and the mage had fallen to the ground, eyes open in fear. As the light faded from the mage’s eyes, Jaskier could feel his bones realigning, his strength coming back and he got onto his hands and knees, a cough tinged with blood leaving him. The mage’s body became nothing more than a pile of clothes and dust, Jaskier giving it a good kick when he got to his feet.

With the mage slain, Jaskier wanted to cry, though out of relief or frustration, he did not know. Geralt had been hit and he rushed over to where Geralt had been thrown, his heart in his throat. A small gasp let him as on the ground lay Geralt, no longer a wolf. However, a gash had ripped his chest open and he was soaked in blood. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier fell to his knees, hands hovering over the wound. “Tell me what to do.”

Geralt’s breathing was labored, an unusual paleness rising to his cheeks. “There’s nothing. Not this time, Jaskier.” A cough of blood followed, but Geralt didn’t bother to wipe it away. 

“Don’t you dare say that,” Jaskier bit. 

Tearing off his doublet, he pressed it to Geralt’s chest to stop the bleeding. In moments, the doublet had turned dark and muddy, the blood beginning to paint the outline of Jaskier’s hands. 

“Geralt, come on,” Jaskier’s voice cracked, just on the verge of begging. “Don’t be stubborn, you always have something.”

Jaskier could see Geralt straining to breath now, the blood pooling around them. His gaze was far away, yet focused on Jaskier’s very soul, as he grimaced. 

“Never thought I’d be the one to go first.”

“Shut up!” Jaskier shouted, angry tears spilling out of his eyes. “You’re not dying, not if I have anything to say about it. We’re going to go to the coast, you’ll heal up nicely there.”

Geralt lifted a hand, cupping Jaskier’s face with it. “You and your dreams about the coast.”

Jaskier choked back a sob, pressing into the fading warmth on his face. Words seemed useless now and Jaskier’s breath stuttered as Geralt wiped tears away with his thumb. The two stared at each other, a silent exchange of memories as Geralt accepted his fate. Jaskier grabbed onto Geralt’s other hand, holding onto it with reverence, memorizing every crease and scar. 

As Geralt took a breath, Jaskier held his own, a plea for a miracle. If he could turn back time, trade places, he’d do it all, if only for one more minute with Geralt. There was still so much unsaid and now Jaskier had to fight with the gutting realization that he would never get his chance. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, struggling to find his voice.

When amber eyes stared, Jaskier couldn’t speak. His mouth moved but the words wouldn’t come. It was then Geralt gave him a small smile, bittersweet.

“It’s all right, Julian.”

Jaskier choked back a sob, cradling Geralt’s hands in his own. He shook his head, trying to stop fate as Geralt’s strength began to leave him. 

“No, no,” Jaskier gasped. “Please don’t.”

The hands in his grasp slackened and Jaskier’s heart shattered as Geralt closed his eyes. Laying Geralt’s hands down, Jaskier grabbed his shoulders, shaking them to keep Geralt awake. When Geralt lay still, a scream tore itself from Jaskier’s throat. His cries echoed through the forest, denial thrown at the sky as he pulled at his hair in agony. Jaskier could feel the very wound Geralt had suffered from, but it was life’s cruel joke that he should still remain alive. 

Jaskier swore at Geralt, calling him awful names amongst pleading whispers. He pulled Geralt up roughly and held him close as he rocked back and forth. Pressing his forehead to Geralt’s, his tears dropped on Geralt’s cheeks almost as if he was crying too. 

“I love you, Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice shook with conviction. He traced a hand down Geralt’s face, a heavy sigh leaving him as he settled into quiet tears.

As Jaskier cried, he didn’t notice the mist surrounding him, the way Geralt was slowly being lifted from his arms. When at last he realized his grip on Geralt was loosening, Jaskier gasped, grabbing for him. Instead he was left to watch through tear-filled eyes as Geralt floated in the air, the mist and golden air surrounding him. It twisted around him, enveloping him whole before a bright light filled the area. Jaskier lifted a hand to shield his eyes, confusion swarming in him as he could only wait anxiously. As the light began to fade, Geralt’s body came back to rest on the ground, as if nothing had happened at all.

“Geralt?” 

Jaskier swallowed, hesitantly getting to his feet before he took a step towards Geralt’s body. The color had come back to his face and loose, black clothes hung off his frame. The wound in his chest was gone, replaced by the medallion Geralt always had on him resting atop his chest. With a heaving breath, Geralt’s eyes snapped open and Jaskier yelped. 

“Jaskier?” 

Hearing Geralt’s voice, Jaskier was overcome with emotion and he rushed over, pulling Geralt into a tight hug when the man got to his feet. Jaskier’s sobs wracked his body as Geralt returned the embrace, almost certain that he would wake up and find this all a dream. Geralt traced a hand down Jaskier’s face before lifting it by his chin so they could properly look at each other. 

“Is it over?” Jaskier breathed. “Is the spell broken?”

Geralt glanced around, noting the sun just starting to rise in the distance. “Well, you’re not a bird.”

Jaskier let out a strangled laugh, his joy finally overcoming as he held onto Geralt’s shoulders. “We’re back, Geralt. You’re back.”

It was then that Geralt leaned in, face inches from Jaskier’s. Their breaths mingled together before Geralt pulled him into a tender kiss, a surprised noise leaving Jaskier in that moment. Finally, his eyes fluttered shut and the two embraced for what felt like eternity. Neither wanted the kiss to end, but as it broke, they both began to smile, finally able to show what had been hidden for so long. 

“I love you too, Julian,” Geralt spoke just above a whisper.

It was then a small laugh bubbled up and Jaskier couldn’t help himself as Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, it’s just...this is what it took. A spell, you dying, years and years of doubt, even I couldn’t make a better song.”

A smile, genuine and beautiful, split across Geralt’s face. Jaskier almost didn’t believe it and found himself lifted into Geralt’s arms and spun around. 

“Geralt,” he laughed, above the clouds to have Geralt so loving and close. 

Setting Jaskier back down on the ground, Geralt took Jaskier’s hand into his own and tugged the amber ring from Jaskier’s middle finger. Sliding it onto the ring finger proved a much better fit, the two men resting their foreheads together. 

“A proposal?” Jaskier breathed, half-joking. “So soon, white wolf?”

“Not soon enough, my lark.”

The two embraced again, never quite satisfying the need for the other. Even as they went back to their camp, they went so hand in hand with smiles and soft kisses to help them along. 

There was much more to be said and done, but the two couldn’t be bothered as they laid down on their bedrolls with tangled limbs. For now, they would sleep and greet the next adventure with a new fervor.

In their dreams, Geralt and Jaskier would watch as a wolf and a lark raced together in the forest, their hearts light and safe with the comfort that at last they had found each other.

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written a long fic in years so pls don't expect me to do this again


End file.
